Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the of William and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, born the sign of the lion and I was raised in a
middle class family with only one brother Michael whom I love
dearly. He was five my senior. My father's nickname was Red which I
could never understand why because his was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So when my brother was born my father Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I should have known from the first time I
realised their special connection, that I didn't fit in to my
father's plans. And as I grew older the comparison between my
and myself 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
Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I soon figured out that
red and black don't mix. The beatings I received became more and
frequent to the point where I would ask my father "Am I the son
you would never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my
upon.

My brother and I were a mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, it's hard to we came from the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always that
idea as my was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even
of such a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my parent's
instilled tried his best 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 a magic 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 put their mother on a pedestal and worship them like
the Virgin Mary but with her too my was different and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, everything she read, true or not, and when it came
to religion was to say the least. A mind boggling combination
but she was pretty, very pretty and I often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of this description could life.

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

The mirror, the plaything for man's vanity. The mirror 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 of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the
one place I could go to see myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household where I could be great, where I could be or
anyone I wanted to be - one percent pure escapism until I
discovered its precious secret. The lives, it breathes, it talks,
it lies, it has a personality all its own. It is a genie that all
the wishes you could dream, at least in my case - all except two.

It was my 14th birthday, the day that my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one person who was my light, my friend, my hero, was
killed by a driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
couldn't bring myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just couldn't come face to face him that one last time. My failure to
attend intensified my parents' resentment for me even more. But from
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that hell called
'home'. For one year after his I roamed the streets in a fog barely
conscious of anything or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls,
and in general a I had never known which was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was as I staggered through a down
city street in one of my drunken rages I stumbled across a small
music shop and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery that
would become the of my new found 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 only way I could express myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my - completely opened all my
Four Doors Of and I found myself going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my songs seemed to write and I knew
my destiny was in my 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
stayed there that was exactly what was going to happen to me - I was
die. So I ran to the big city with the lights, excitement and danger
and a for me to finally 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 and as I stood at the edge
of the city the magic of the was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the place I would call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I 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 business man named
Charlie. He had a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he could
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 record
companies in the world. The music business to was nothing more
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to and the weapon of choice
was his record that he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he would lovingly to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will eventually themselves to commercialism, the place where the
music comes to die. And through him I learned everything I 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 was calling and I was on my way. He introduced me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex Rodman and together we on the whole
fucking world and kicked it in the ass.

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

Success agreed with me with amazing ease. The more records I sold the
I had of everything - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my nightly hedonisms a flash individual entered the room.
He himself as the Doctor. I asked 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 Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend and I
never heard the mirror speak again tonight.

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

One morning my manager Alex came in and broke up one of our Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when everybody would come to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running women etc. And
watch the movie and do everything going on the film a lot more. And
he threatened to leave me if I didn't clean up. It was not 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 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 enough courage to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My mind went a whirlwind thinking of what
would and the fear overcame me and I started to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the other end rang out and it a chill
through me that I had known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my pounding 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 hearing me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping all the time
that had passed would heal the deep wounds between my and me
but... I desperately wanted them to approve of me, to me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my success would prove 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 four were "We
no son".

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