Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Jonathon Aaron Steel, to the parents of and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign of the lion and I was in a
middle class family with only one brother Michael whom I love
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 was born my father became Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I should have from the first time 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 who was the image of perfection in my
father's eye. To him, my brother could do no wrong and I The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black 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 oddly enough I 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 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
insecurities tried his best to encourage me. For I was born
different and he knew it. He often told me when I was born an angel
over my bed and christened me 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 like
the Mary but with 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 when it
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 could rationalise life.

This was a series of that many times in my life I would
look back on in and the women I sought after when I was older
would be nothing like her. In the 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
characteristics of my personality would become the force of my
life and would control everything I did or was to become. I shall
later in the about them which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the great for man's vanity. The mirror was to
become, at times, my altar of and other, my alter ego and its
obsession 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 myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household I could be great, where I could be anything or
anyone I wanted to be - one hundred percent pure 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 grants all
the wishes you could ever dream, at in my case - all except two.

It was my birthday, the day that changed my life forever. My brother
Michael, the one who was my guiding 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 with him that one last time. My failure to
intensified my parents' resentment for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that hell called
'home'. For one after his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
conscious of or anyone. I discovered alcohol, and girls, drugs
and in general a life I had never known which was exciting,
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I staggered through a
city street in one of my drunken rages I stumbled across a small
music shop and in the window stood the instrument, the tool that
would become the object of my new found desire. The 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 way I could truly express myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain - opened all my
Doors Of Doom and I found myself going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of this my songs to write themselves 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 going to succeed. I was 16
nowhere and the only my parents knew was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
stayed there that was what 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 and do my music without the
persecution I had for so long. I hitchhiked all the way with a
in one hand and my guitar 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 I would call the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
in the arena for two years trying to get a break in music and
make a record and that's when I ran across a delightful man named
Charlie. He had been a lawyer for 25 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 of one of the biggest 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 refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music business where everyone out. Where all the artists
will eventually whore themselves to commercialism, the place the
music comes to die. And 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 on the whole
fucking and kicked it square in the ass.

Just before the release of my first album I was on the steps in
of my apartment when a gypsy woman passed by. She stopped and asked
me if I would like my fortune read and I had 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 with my great
struggle to and fulfillment of my dreams and new found happiness
but about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my future
and pleaded for her to go on and she spoke. She showed me a very
disturbing vision of where I was going. I told her that I 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 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 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 nightly hedonisms where a flash individual 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 from the and the
next three years were a blur. Drugs became the new and alcohol
became the new Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new friend and I
never the mirror 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 Great Idol. Now I had everything it seemed,
everything but the one thing that would meant 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 spoken to
I had home.

One morning my Alex came in and broke 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 women etc. And we'd
watch the movie and do going on the film only a lot more. And
he threatened to leave me if I didn't up. It was not that he cared
about me as a person he was interested in my talent and what I could
do to his own career as a true showbiz mogul. But it was then I
realised how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of pain and I was just numb from the 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 to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the other end rang out and it sent a
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 hearing me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping all the time
that had would heal the deep wounds between my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted them to approve of me, to me - it was
all I wanted. I hoped my success would finally prove my worthiness
and they would welcome the 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 never heal and mine had scarred me for life. A great star
from the sky that night and with its descent left a scorched in its
way - a great path of self-destruction before out. And on this
night the great finale is finally here. 'Be what you wish for - it
may come true. ' live, long live the King of Mercy.