Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Steel, to the parents of William and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, born the sign of the lion and I was raised in a
lower class family with only one brother Michael whom I love
dearly. He was five years my senior. My father's nickname was Red I
could understand why because his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So when my brother was born my became Big Red and
my Little Red. I should have known from the first time when I
realised their connection, that I just didn't fit in to my
father's plans. And as I grew older the constant comparison my
brother and myself 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 'black 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 father "Am I the 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, it's hard to imagine we came from the parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I always dismissed
as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even
think of a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my parent's
instilled insecurities tried his best to me. For I was born
different and he knew it. He told me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me with a magic wand and said "You be the
one". And I had no idea what 'The one' was, but as I grew older I to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship them
the Virgin Mary but with her too my was different and not for
the good. She was opinionated, uneducated, prejudiced,
overbearing, believed everything she read, true or not, and it came
to religion was over-zealous to say the least. A mind combination
but she was pretty, very pretty and I often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of description could rationalise life.

was a series of characteristics that many times in my life I would
look back on in bewilderment and the I sought after when I was older
would be 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 - fuel for my fire. These
characteristics of my would become the guiding force of my
life and would control I did or was to become. I shall explain
later in the story about them I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the plaything for man's vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my altar of refuge and other, my ego and its
magnificent with a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as
a reflection of my own wretchedness and my greatness. It was the
one place I could go to see inside myself, to love, in an otherwise
loveless household where I could be great, I could be anything or
anyone I wanted to be - one percent pure escapism until 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 ever dream, at least in my - all except two.

It was my 14th birthday, the day that my life forever. My brother
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' for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that living called
'home'. For one year after his death I the streets in a fog barely
conscious of anything or anyone. I alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in a life I had never known which 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 stood the instrument, the fiery tool 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 vent all my frustrations and all my pain - completely all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found myself going to the for counsel less
and less. Because of this my songs seemed to write 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 to succeed. I was 16 going
and the only thing my parents knew was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
stayed there that was exactly was going to happen to me - I was gonna
die. So I ran away to the big city with the lights, excitement and
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 in the other and as I stood at the edge
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 years trying to get a in music and
make a and that's when I ran across a delightful business man named
Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 years he discovered he could
fuck over more people in the recording industry then he 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 and the weapon of choice
was his record company that he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great
he lovingly refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the business where everyone sells out. Where all the artists
will eventually whore to commercialism, the place where the
music comes to die. And through him I learned I needed to know
about the music business and even things I didn't 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 manager named Alex Rodman and together we took on the whole
fucking world and it square in the ass.

Just before the release of my first 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 fortune 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 which she went into great detail the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my present with my
struggle to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new found
but after ten minutes 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 cards she saw a fallen and
looked at me and said "Be careful you wish for - it might come true,
for the face of death wears the of the King of Mercy". I asked her if
she was sure of what she had seen and 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 the more
excess I had of - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my nightly hedonisms where a 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 mirror that was
on the wall, my alter ego, was now talking to me the table and the
next three years were a blur. Drugs the new candy and alcohol
became the new 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 and the world saw me as I had always wanted
it, The Idol, the Great Crimson Idol. Now I had it seemed,
everything but the one thing that have meant more to me than
anything. The pain that itself into 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 up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Party was when everybody would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running women etc. And
the movie 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 person he was only 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 from the alcohol and the but equally as
by my own fame and I had just enough courage 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 started to put down the
but I could a voice at the other end rang out and it sent a chill
me that I had never 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 very cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly from me
after all years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the time
that had passed would heal the deep 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 they would welcome the prodigal son home. All I was for them to
be of me but less than 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
the sky that night and with its descent left a scorched path in its
way - a great of self-destruction 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 the King of Mercy.