Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, under the sign of the lion and I was raised in a
lower middle class family with only one Michael whom I love
dearly. He was five years my senior. My nickname was Red which I
could never why because his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So when my was born my father became Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I should have known from the first when I
realised their special connection, that I just fit in to my
father's plans. And as I grew the constant comparison between my
brother and myself left little doubt who was the of perfection in my
eye. To him, my brother could do no wrong and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black and I soon figured out that
red and black don't mix. The I received became more and more
frequent to the point I would ask my father "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But oddly enough I the ground my father
upon.

My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as and
dark. Looking back, it's hard to imagine we came the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I dismissed that
as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even
think of such a thing. But my brother who had sensed my parent's
insecurities tried his best to encourage me. For I was born
different and he knew it. He often told me I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me with a magic and said "You shall be the
one". And I had no what 'The one' was, but as I grew older I began to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship them
the Virgin Mary but with her too my relationship was and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, believed she read, true or not, and when it came
to religion was over-zealous to say the least. A boggling combination
but she was pretty, very and I would often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of this description could life.

This was a series of that many times in my life I would
look back on in bewilderment and the women I sought when I was older
be nothing like her. In the pain of youth, the misery of my neglect,
would itself in many ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, hatred - my lover, and anger - fuel for my fire. four
characteristics of my would become the guiding force of my
life and would everything I did or was to become. I shall explain
in the story about them which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the great plaything for man's vanity. The was to
become, at times, my of refuge and other, my alter ego and its
magnificent obsession a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as
a chilling reflection of my own and my greatness. It was the
one place I could go to see inside myself, to find love, in an
loveless household where I could be great, I could be anything or
anyone I wanted to be - one hundred percent escapism until I
its precious secret. The mirror lives, it breathes, it talks,
it lies, it has a personality all its own. It is a genie grants all
the you could ever dream, at least in my case - all except two.

It was my 14th birthday, the day changed my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one who was my guiding light, my friend, my hero, was
by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
couldn't even myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just couldn't come face to face with him that one last time. My to
intensified my parents' resentment for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing to matter, especially that living hell called
'home'. For one year after his death I roamed the streets in a fog
conscious of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls,
and in general a life I had known which was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I staggered through a
city street in one of my drunken rages I stumbled across a small
music shop and in the window the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the object of my new desire. The instrument of my
passion, my obsession, the blood-red six string. It was I'd known
the all my life.

I soon found it was the way I could truly express myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain - opened all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my songs to write themselves and I knew
my destiny was in my music but I was to have to get out of this
backwards town I was in if I was ever going to succeed. I was 16
nowhere and the only thing my parents was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
there that was exactly what was going to happen to me - I was gonna
die. So I ran away to the big city the lights, excitement and danger
and a chance for me to finally live and do my without the
persecution I had for so long. I hitchhiked all the way with a
suitcase in one hand and my guitar in the other and as I stood at the
of the the magic of the place was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the place I call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the arena for two trying to get a break in music and
make a record and when I ran across a delightful business man named
Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he
over more people in the recording industry then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the of one of the biggest record
companies in the world. The music business to Charlie was more
a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice
was his record company that wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he would refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music business where everyone out. Where all the artists
will eventually whore themselves to commercialism, the where the
music comes to die. And through him I learned everything I to know
about the music business and even things I didn't to know. He said he
make me a star, one of the biggest things the world had ever seen.
The big time was calling and I was on my way. He me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex and together we took on the whole
fucking and kicked it square in the ass.

Just before the of my first album I was sitting on the steps in
front of my when a gypsy woman passed by. She stopped and asked
me if I would my fortune read and I had never had it done so I was
more happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot cards and began
to tell me of my past in which she went great detail about the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my with my great
struggle to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new happiness
but after about ten she stopped and I wanted to know of my future
and pleaded for her to go on and finally she spoke. She me a very
vision of where I was going. I told her that I wanted a
phenomenal wealth and fame and in the cards she saw a fallen and
at me and said "Be careful what you wish for - it might come true,
for the face of death wears the mask of the King of Mercy". I her if
she was sure of what she had seen and with a blank stare she and
walked away leaving me with the cards and a haunting that would me
the of my life.

agreed with me with amazing ease. The more records I sold the more
excess I had of - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my nightly hedonisms where a flash individual the room.
He introduced himself as the Doctor. I asked him what of doctor and
he smiled and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The mirror that was
on the wall, my ego, was now talking to me from the table and the
next three years a blur. Drugs became the new candy and alcohol
became the new Coca Cola and Doctor was my new best friend and I
heard the mirror speak again until tonight.

I was at the peak of my career and the world saw me as I had wanted
it, The Idol, the Crimson Idol. Now I had everything it seemed,
everything but the one thing that have meant more to me than
anything. The that manifested itself into my obsession, the
of me by my father and mother, who I had not spoken to since
I had home.

One morning my Alex came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when everybody would over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running etc. And we'd
watch the and do everything going on the film only a lot more. And
he threatened to leave me if I clean up. It was not that he cared
me as a person he was only interested in my talent and what I could
do to further his own as a true showbiz mogul. But it was then I
realised just how far had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of pain and I was just numb the alcohol and the drugs but equally as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had just enough courage to up the
phone and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put down the
but before I could a at the other end rang out and it sent a chill
through me that I had known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my heart pounding out of my but when I did I did the best I
could. She was cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly hearing from me
after all these years was and I was hoping that all the time
had passed would heal the deep wounds between my parents and me
but... I desperately them to approve of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my success finally prove my worthiness
and would welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for them to
be proud of me but less 50 words were spoken. The last four were "We
no son".

Some never heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star fell
from the sky night and with its descent left a scorched path in its
way - a great path of before burning out. And on this
night the great finale is here. 'Be careful what you wish for - it
may come true. ' Long live, long live the of Mercy.