Luyện nghe bài hát Narration

I was born Aaron 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 middle class family with one brother Michael whom I love
dearly. He was five 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 brother was born my became Big Red and
my brother Little Red. I should 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 older the constant comparison between my
brother and myself left doubt who was the image of perfection in my
father's eye. To him, my brother could do no and I became The
Invisible Boy, the proverbial 'black sheep' and I figured out that
red and black don't mix. The beatings I became more and more
frequent to the point where I would ask my "Am I the orphaned son
you never need"? But oddly 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 father, but I always dismissed that
as my mother was far too religious, my father as well, to ever even
think of such a thing. But my brother who had always sensed my
instilled insecurities tried his to encourage me. For I was born
and he knew it. He often told me when I was born an angel flew
over my bed and christened me with a wand and said "You shall 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 worship them
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 would often wonder, on
confusion, how a person of this description could rationalise life.

This was a series of characteristics many times in my life I would
look on in bewilderment and the women I sought after when I was older
would be nothing like her. In the pain of youth, the of my neglect,
would manifest itself in ways; depression - my enemy, fear - my
friend, - my lover, and anger - fuel for my fire. These four
characteristics of my personality become the guiding force of my
life and would control everything I did or was to become. I shall
later in the story about which I call my Four Doors of Doom.

The mirror, the great plaything for man's vanity. The was to
become, at times, my altar of 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 could be or
anyone I wanted to be - one hundred percent pure until I
discovered its 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 changed my life forever. My
Michael, the one who was my guiding light, my friend, my hero, was
by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. He died instantly. I
couldn't even bring myself to go to his funeral. My was so great I
just couldn't come face to face with him that one time. My failure to
attend my parents' resentment for me even more. But from that
moment on, nothing seemed to matter, especially that living hell
'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 life I had known which was exciting, frightening
and wonderfully dangerous. And it was then as I staggered through a
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
become the object of my new found desire. The instrument 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 only way I could truly myself. It was a
way to all my frustrations and all my pain - completely opened all my
Four 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 to succeed. I was 16 going
nowhere and the thing my parents knew was 'live, work, die. ' And if I
there that was exactly what was going to happen 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 at the edge
of the city the magic of the was incredibly intense. It was to be my
new home the place I would the 'Arena Of Pleasure'. I lived and
struggled in the arena for two years trying to get a in music and
make a record and that's when I ran across a delightful business man
Charlie. He had been a 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 president of one of the record
companies in the world. The music business to was nothing more
a sacrificial lamb to be led to slaughter and the weapon of choice
was his record company that wield like a mighty sword. The great tool
he lovingly refer to as 'The Chainsaw'. The morgue, Charlie said,
was the music business everyone sells out. Where all the artists
eventually whore themselves 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 want to know. He 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
young manager named Alex 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
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 me of my past in which she went into great detail about the pain
of my youth, my brother and my parents. She saw my with my great
to succeed and fulfillment of my dreams and new found happiness
but after about ten minutes she stopped and I wanted to know of my
and pleaded for her to go on and finally she spoke. She showed me a
disturbing vision of I was going. I told her that I wanted a
phenomenal wealth and and in the cards she saw a fallen hero and
at me and said "Be careful what 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 with a blank stare she and
walked away leaving me with the cards and a haunting 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 where a flash individual entered the room.
He introduced as the Doctor. I asked him what kind of doctor and
he smiled and said, "meet my 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 became the new candy and
the new Coca Cola and Doctor Rockter was my new best friend and I
never heard the speak again until tonight.

I was at the of my career 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 would meant more to me than
anything. The pain that manifested itself my obsession, the
acceptance of me by my and mother, who I had not spoken to since
I had home.

One morning my manager came in and broke up one of our nightly Easy
Parties. An Easy Rider 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 everything on the film only a lot more. And
he threatened to me if I didn't clean up. It was not that he cared
about me as a person he was only interested in my and what I could
do to further his own career as a true showbiz mogul. But it was I
realised just how far had gone. So I sat there alone in my palace
of pain and I was numb from the alcohol and the drugs but equally as
by my own fame and I had just enough courage to pick up the
phone and dial the number. My mind went into a whirlwind of what
would happen and the fear overcame me and I started to put the phone
but before I could a at the other end rang out and it sent a chill
through me that I had known. It was my mother. It was hard for me to
speak, my pounding 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 that all the time
that had passed would heal the deep wounds between my 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 welcome the prodigal son home. All I wanted was for them to
be of me but less than 50 words were spoken. The last four were "We
no son".

Some wounds never heal and mine had me for life. A great star fell
from the sky that night and with its descent left a scorched in its
way - a great path of before burning out. And on this
night the great finale is finally here. 'Be careful you wish for - it
may come true. ' live, long live the King of Mercy.