Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Aaron Steel, to the parents of William and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, born under the of the lion and I was raised in a
lower middle class family with only one brother Michael whom I
dearly. He was years my senior. My father's nickname was Red which I
could understand why because his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So when my brother was my father became Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I have known from the first time 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 left little doubt who was the image of perfection in my
father's eye. To him, my could do no wrong and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial sheep' and I soon figured out that
red and don't mix. The beatings I received became more and more
frequent to the point where I would ask my "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my
upon.

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

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

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

It was my 14th birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My
Michael, the one who was my guiding light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a drunk in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
even bring myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just come face to face with him that one last time. My failure to
attend intensified my parents' resentment for me even more. But from
on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that living hell called
'home'. For one year his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in general a life I had never known was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I through a down
town city street in one of my drunken rages I stumbled a small
music shop and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery that
would the object of my new found desire. The instrument of my
passion, my obsession, the blood-red six string. It was like I'd
the all my life.

I soon found it was the only way I could express myself. It was a
way to vent all my and all my pain - completely opened all my
Four Doors Of and I found myself going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. of this my songs seemed 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 going to succeed. I was 16 going
nowhere and the only thing my knew was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
stayed 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 live and do my music without the
persecution I had known for so long. I hitchhiked all the way a
suitcase in one hand and my guitar in the other and as I stood at the
of the city the of the place was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the I would call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the arena for two years trying to get a in music and
make a record and that's when I ran across a delightful business man
Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he
fuck over people in the recording industry then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the president of one of the biggest
companies in the world. The business to Charlie was nothing more
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the of choice
was his record company he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he would lovingly refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, said,
was the music where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will eventually whore to commercialism, the place where the
music to die. And through him I learned everything I needed to know
about the business and even things I didn't want to know. He said he
could make me a star, one of the 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 Rodman and we took on the whole
fucking world and it square in the ass.

Just before the release of my album I was sitting on the steps in
front of my apartment when a woman passed by. She stopped and asked
me if I like my fortune read and I had never had it done so I was
more than happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot cards and
to tell me of my past in which she into great detail about the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my present with my
struggle to succeed and of my dreams and new found 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 showed me a
vision of where I was going. I told her that I wanted a
phenomenal wealth and fame and in the she saw a fallen hero and
looked at me and "Be careful what you wish for - it might come true,
for the of death wears the mask of the King of Mercy". I asked her if
she was sure of what she had seen and with a blank stare she and
walked away leaving me with the and a haunting that would follow me
the of my life.

Success agreed 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 hedonisms where a flash individual entered the room.
He introduced himself as the Doctor. I him what kind of doctor and
he smiled and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The that was once
on the wall, my ego, was now talking to me from the table and the
next years were a blur. Drugs became the new candy and alcohol
became the new Coca Cola and Doctor was my new best friend and I
never heard the mirror speak until tonight.

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

One morning my manager came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider was when everybody would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and running women etc. And we'd
watch the movie and do everything going on the only a lot more. And
he threatened to me if I didn't clean up. It was not that he cared
about me as a person he was only interested in my and what I could
do to further his own career as a true showbiz mogul. But it was I
realised how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of pain and I was just numb from the alcohol and the drugs but as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had just courage to pick up the
and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind thinking of what
would happen and the overcame me and I started to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the end rang out and it sent a chill
through me that I had never known. It was my mother. It was for me to
speak, my heart out of my chest but when I did I did the best I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly from me
all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the time
that had passed would heal the wounds between my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted to approve of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my success would finally my worthiness
and they would welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for to
be proud of me but less than 50 words were spoken. The last were "We
no son".

Some wounds never 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 self-destruction before burning out. And on
night the great finale is finally here. 'Be careful what you for - it
may come true. ' live, long live the King of Mercy.