Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the 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
never 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 should have known from the first when I
their special connection, that I just didn't fit in to my
father's plans. And as I grew older the constant between my
brother and myself left little doubt who was the of perfection in my
father's eye. To him, my brother do no wrong and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I soon out that
red and black don't mix. The beatings I received became more and
frequent to the point where I ask my father "Am I the orphaned son
you never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my father
upon.

My brother and I were a mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, hard to imagine we came from the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always that
idea as my mother was far too religious, my as well, to ever even
think of such a thing. But my who had always sensed my parent's
instilled insecurities tried his to encourage me. For I was born
different and he knew it. He often me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me with a wand and said "You shall be the
one". And I had no idea 'The one' was, but as I grew 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 and I would often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of description could rationalise life.

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

The mirror, the great plaything for vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my altar of and other, my alter ego and its
magnificent with a relentless 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
household where I could be great, where 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 genie grants all
the you could ever dream, at least in my case - all except two.

It was my birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one person who was my light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. He instantly. I
couldn't even bring myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so I
just couldn't come face to face him that one last time. My failure 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 after his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
conscious of anything or anyone. I 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 staggered through a
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 become the object of my new found desire. The of my
passion, my obsession, the six string. It was like I'd known
the all my life.

I found it was the only way I could truly express myself. It was a
way to all my frustrations and all my pain - completely opened all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found myself going to the mirror for less
and less. Because of this my songs to write themselves and I knew
my was in my music but I was going 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 knew 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 with the lights, and danger
and a chance for me to finally live and do my music 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 at the edge
of the city the magic of the place was intense. It was to be my
new the place I would call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the arena for two years trying to get a break in and
make a and that's when I ran across a delightful business man named
Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 years before he he could
fuck over more people in the recording industry then he ever in a
court of law and he was the president of one of the biggest
companies in the world. The music business to 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 business where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
eventually whore themselves to commercialism, the place where the
music comes to die. And through him I everything I needed to know
about the music 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 and I was on my way. He introduced me to an
aspiring young manager named Rodman and together we took on the whole
world 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 like my read and I had never had it done so I was
more than happy to say yes. She revealed a of Tarot cards and began
to tell me of my past in she went into 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 and new found happiness
but after about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my
and for her to go on and finally she spoke. She showed me a very
disturbing vision of I was going. I told her that I wanted a
phenomenal wealth and fame and in the cards she saw a hero and
looked at me and "Be careful what you wish for - it might come true,
for the face of wears the mask of the King of Mercy". I asked her if
she was sure of what she had seen and with a stare she turned and
away leaving me with the cards and a haunting that would follow me
the of my life.

Success agreed with me with amazing ease. The 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 as the Doctor. I asked him what kind of doctor and
he smiled and said, "meet my friend Sam". The mirror that was once
on the wall, my alter ego, was now talking to me from the and the
next three years were a blur. Drugs became the new and alcohol
the new Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend and I
never heard the 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 that would have meant 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 Alex came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was everybody would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running women etc. And
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
about me as a he was only interested in my talent and what I could
do to further his own career as a true mogul. But it was then I
realised just how far things had gone. So I sat there in my palace
of pain and I was just from the alcohol and the drugs but equally as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had just enough to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My mind into a whirlwind thinking of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I to put down the phone
but before I a voice 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 out of my chest but when I did I did the best I
could. She was cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly hearing from me
all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the time
that had passed would the deep 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 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 wounds heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star fell
from the sky that night and its descent left a scorched path in its
way - a great path of self-destruction burning out. And on this
night the great finale is finally here. 'Be careful you wish for - it
may come true. ' Long live, live the King of Mercy.