Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was Jonathon 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 whom I love
dearly. He was five years my senior. My father's was Red which I
could understand why because his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So my brother was born my father became Big Red and
my Little Red. I should have known from the first time when I
realised 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 little doubt who was the image 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 where I would ask my father "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But 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 from the same parents. I
sometimes if we had the same father, but I always dismissed that
idea as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever
think of a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my parent's
instilled insecurities tried his to encourage me. For I was born
different and he it. He often told me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me with a magic wand and "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 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, believed everything she read, or not, and when it came
to was over-zealous to say the least. A mind boggling combination
but she was pretty, very and I would often wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of this description rationalise life.

This was a series of characteristics that times in my life I would
look back on in bewilderment and the women I sought after when I was
would be nothing 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 anger - for my fire. These four
of my personality would become the guiding force of my
life and would everything I did or was to become. I shall explain
later in the story about them which I call my 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 with a 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 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 pure escapism until I
discovered its precious secret. The lives, it breathes, it talks,
it lies, it has a all its own. It is a genie 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 person who was my light, my friend, my hero, was
by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
couldn't even bring 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
attend intensified my parents' resentment for me more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, 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 I had never known which was exciting, frightening
and dangerous. And it was then as I staggered through a down
town city street in one of my drunken rages I across a small
music and in the window stood the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the object of my new desire. The instrument of my
passion, my obsession, the six string. It was like I'd known
the all my life.

I soon found it was the only way I 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 myself to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my seemed to write themselves and I knew
my destiny was in my but I was going to have to get out of this
town I was in if I was ever going to succeed. I was 16 going
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 chance for me to finally live and do my without the
I had known for so long. I hitchhiked all the way with a
suitcase in one and my guitar in the other 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 call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the arena for two trying to get a break 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 before he he could
fuck over more people in the recording then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the president of one of the record
in the world. The music business to Charlie was nothing more
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of
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 whore to commercialism, the place where the
music comes to die. And him I learned everything 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 biggest things the had ever seen.
The big time was and I was on my way. He introduced me to an
aspiring young manager named Alex Rodman and together we on the whole
fucking and kicked 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 gypsy woman passed by. She stopped and
me if I would like my fortune and I had never had it done so I was
more than to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot cards and began
to tell me of my past in which she went into great detail about the
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 minutes she stopped and I to know of my future
and for her to go on and finally she spoke. She showed me a very
disturbing of where 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 for - it might come true,
for the face of death wears the mask of the of Mercy". I asked her if
she was of what she had seen and with a blank stare she turned and
walked away leaving me with the cards and a haunting would follow me
the of my life.

Success agreed with me with amazing ease. The more records I the more
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 and said, "meet my friend Uncle Sam". The mirror that was once
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 Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best 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 always
it, The Idol, the Great Crimson Idol. Now I had it seemed,
everything but the one thing that would have more to me than
anything. The pain manifested 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 Rider was when everybody would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold women etc. And we'd
watch the movie and do everything going on the film 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 interested in my talent and what I
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 the number. My mind went into a whirlwind thinking of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the other end out and it sent a chill
through me I had never known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my heart pounding out of my chest but 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 that all the time
that had passed would heal the deep wounds my parents and me
but... I wanted them to approve of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I hoped my would finally prove my worthiness
and they would welcome the prodigal son home. All I was for them to
be proud of me but less than 50 words spoken. The last four were "We
no son".

Some wounds never heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star
from the sky 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 true. ' Long live, long live the King of Mercy.