Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Aaron Steel, to the parents of William and Elizabeth
steel. I am a Leo, born under the sign of the lion and I was 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 never understand why his hair was sandy blond. Nevertheless,
the stuck. So when my brother was born my father became Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I should have known the first time when I
realised special connection, that I just didn't fit in to my
father's plans. And as I older the constant comparison between my
brother and myself left little doubt who was the of perfection in my
father's eye. To him, my brother do no wrong and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I soon figured out
red and black mix. The beatings I received became more and more
to the point where I would ask my father "Am I the orphaned son
you would never need"? But oddly enough I worshipped the ground my
upon.

My brother and I were a strange mixture, as different as and
dark. Looking back, hard to imagine we came from the same parents. I
wondered if we had the same father, but I always dismissed that
idea as my 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 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 with a magic wand and said "You be the
one". And I had no idea what 'The one' was, but as I older I began to
understand. Most boys put their mother on a pedestal and them like
the Virgin Mary but with her too my relationship was 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 often wonder, bordering on
confusion, how a person of this description could rationalise life.

This was a series of characteristics that many times in my I would
back on in bewilderment 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 - fuel for my fire. These four
characteristics of my 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 which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the great plaything for 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 I could go to see inside myself, to find love, in an otherwise
loveless household where I could be great, where I be anything or
anyone I wanted to be - one hundred percent escapism until I
its precious secret. The mirror lives, it breathes, it talks,
it lies, it has a personality all its own. It is a genie that all
the you could ever 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 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 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 hell
'home'. For one year his death I roamed the streets in a fog barely
of anything 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 as I staggered through a down
town city street in one of my rages I stumbled across a small
shop and in the window 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 soon found it was the only way I could truly myself. It was a
way to vent all my frustrations and all my pain - completely all my
Four Doors Of Doom and I found going to the mirror for counsel less
and less. Because of my songs seemed 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 going to succeed. I was 16 going
nowhere and the only my parents 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 with the lights, excitement and danger
and a chance for me to finally live and do my 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 stood at the
of the city the of the place was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the I would 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 delightful business man
Charlie. He had a lawyer for 25 years before he discovered he could
over more people in the recording industry then he ever could in a
court of law and he was the of one of the biggest record
companies in the world. The music business to was nothing more
than a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of
was his record company that he'd wield like a 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 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 biggest things the world had seen.
The big was calling and I was on my way. He introduced me to an
aspiring young manager named Rodman and together we took 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 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
than happy to say yes. She revealed a deck of Tarot cards and began
to me of my past in which she went into great detail about the pain
of my youth, my and my parents. She saw my present with 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
vision 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 what you wish for - it might come true,
for the face of death wears the mask of the of Mercy". I asked her if
she was sure of what she had seen and a blank stare she turned and
walked away me with the cards and a haunting that would follow me
the of my life.

agreed with me with amazing ease. The more records I sold the more
excess I had of - friends, money, women, cars, houses. It was
at one of my nightly hedonisms where a flash entered the room.
He introduced himself as the Doctor. I asked him what kind of 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 three years a blur. Drugs became 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 wanted
it, The Idol, the Crimson Idol. Now I had everything it seemed,
everything but the one thing would have meant more to me than
anything. The pain that itself into my obsession, the
of me by my father and mother, who I had not spoken to since
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 and do everything going on the film only a lot more. And
he to leave me if I didn't clean up. It was not that he cared
about me as a person he was interested in my talent and what I could
do to further his own career as a showbiz mogul. But it was then I
just how far things had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of pain and I was just from the alcohol and the drugs but equally as
intoxicated by my own fame and I had just enough courage to up the
and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind thinking of what
would happen and the fear me and I started to put down the phone
but before I could a voice at the other end 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 pounding out of my chest but when I did I did the I
could. She was very cold. But I knew the shock of hearing from me
after all these years was overwhelming and I was hoping that all the
that had passed would heal the deep between my parents and me
but... I desperately wanted them to of me, to accept me - it was
all I ever wanted. I 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 than 50 words were spoken. The last 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 path of self-destruction before out. And on this
night the great finale is finally here. 'Be careful you wish for - it
may come true. ' Long live, long the King of Mercy.