Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of William and
steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign of the lion and I was 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 never understand why because his was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the name stuck. So my brother was born my father became Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I 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 the constant 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
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 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 "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But enough I worshipped the ground my father
upon.

My brother and I a strange mixture, as different as daylight and
dark. Looking back, it's hard to imagine we came the same parents. I
sometimes wondered if we had the same father, but I dismissed 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 insecurities tried his to encourage me. For I was born
different and he knew it. He told me when I was born an angel flew
my bed and christened me with a magic wand and said "You shall be the
one". And I had no idea what one' was, but as I grew older I began to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and worship them
the Virgin Mary but her too my relationship 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 boggling combination
but she was pretty, very pretty and I would wonder, bordering on
complete confusion, how a person of this description could life.

This was a of characteristics that many times in my life I would
look back on in bewilderment and the women I sought when I was older
would be nothing like her. In the of youth, the misery of my neglect,
would itself in many ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, hatred - my lover, and anger - fuel for my fire. four
characteristics of my personality become the guiding force of my
life and control everything I did or was to become. I shall explain
in the story 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 altar of and other, my alter ego and its
magnificent with a relentless pursuit of attention. It served as
a chilling reflection of my own and my greatness. It was the
one place I go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless where I could be great, where I could be anything or
anyone I to be - one hundred 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 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 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 even myself to go to his funeral. My agony was so great I
just couldn't 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 I roamed the streets in a fog barely
conscious of or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in general a 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 window the instrument, the fiery tool that
would become the of my new found 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 could truly myself. It was a
way to all my frustrations and all my pain - completely opened all my
Doors Of Doom 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
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 to me - I was gonna
die. So I ran away to the big city 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 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 home the place I call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the for two years trying to get a break 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 more people in the recording industry then he could in a
of law and he was the president of one of the biggest record
companies in the world. The music to Charlie was nothing more
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to and the weapon of choice
was his company that he'd wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he lovingly refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music business where everyone out. Where all the artists
will whore themselves to commercialism, the place where the
comes to die. And through him I learned everything I needed to know
about the music and even things I didn't want to know. He said he
could me a star, one of the biggest 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 Alex Rodman and together we took on the
world and kicked it square in the ass.

Just before the release of my first album I was sitting on the in
of my apartment 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 which she went into detail about the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my present with my
struggle to and fulfillment of my dreams and new found happiness
but after about ten minutes she and I wanted to know of my future
and pleaded for her to go on and she spoke. She showed me a very
vision of where 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 said "Be careful what you for - it might come true,
for the face of death 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 leaving me with the cards and a haunting that would follow me
the of my life.

Success agreed me with amazing ease. The more records I sold the more
I had of everything - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my hedonisms where 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 alter ego, was now talking to me the table and the
next years were a blur. Drugs became the new candy and alcohol
became the new Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best and I
never heard the mirror speak again tonight.

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

One morning my manager Alex came in and up one of our nightly Easy
Rider Parties. An Easy Rider Party was when would come over to
my house, the band, the doctor, hot and cold running etc. And we'd
watch the and do everything going on the film only 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 things had gone. So I sat there alone in my
of pain and I was numb 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 went into a whirlwind thinking of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put the phone
but before I 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 cold. But I knew the shock of suddenly hearing from me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was 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 wanted. I hoped my success would finally prove my worthiness
and they would the prodigal son home. All I wanted 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 that night and with its left a scorched path in its
way - a great path of self-destruction before out. And on this
the great finale is finally here. 'Be careful what you wish for - it
may come true. ' Long live, long live the of Mercy.