Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the line of
Every time I my pen
the page and form the words
I felt but couldn't 'til then
And to myself I beg the
Why do I masquerade
As one to one and to
else? If I, afraid
Of what the consequence of
my cause might be,
When I rant and and reason
Do I write for or me?
I believe there is merit
In creating for self
But why place the public
What is left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not that
I pen is mine alone,
Even this be misguided
As are many I known
Who swore, poor souls, they possessed
The key to mysterious fate,
in convincing some,
But could tell they did but prate
On touching something vague
cannot be unproven, or,
In place of content, speak in
Yet not whom they're speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not I represent
Some force divine, but still I
That I never be content
To my tongue when I would speak
Or change my words to suit the
Or pinch a blush upon my
To my joy at love gone sour.
I do not to disappoint
The faith that others in me
To the way to brighter days,
But dark is all I see.
I work for good, I for hope,
No one can my intent
But those who listen close
Can often what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I shyte and call it song.
I'll always question thus,
Discount my merits, thoughts, and
'Tis well, as I still go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
Strong is she who her mind
And speaks it she may not please.
Fortunate the
That such honest thoughts as these.