Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the of self-indulgence
time I place my pen
Upon the and form the words
I felt but couldn't 'til then
And to I beg the question
Why do I thus
As one to one and to
Someone If I, afraid
Of the consequence of stating
my cause might be,
When I and rhyme and reason
Do I write for or me?
I there is some merit
In for one's self
But why place before the
is best left on the shelf?
Though while I I do not feel that
I pen is mine alone,
Even this could be
As are many I have
Who swore, poor souls, they possessed
The key to man's fate,
in convincing some,
But most could tell did but prate
On subjects touching something
cannot be unproven, or,
In place of content, in tongues
Yet not whom they're speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not I represent
Some divine, but still I know
That I shall never be
To hold my when I would speak
Or change my to suit the hour
Or pinch a upon my cheek
To feign my joy at love sour.
I do not to disappoint
The that others place in me
To lead the way to days,
But dark is all I see.
I for good, I toil for hope,
No one can question my
But even who listen close
Can often mistake I meant.
My fear, I've to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I shyte and call it song.
Perhaps always question thus,
Discount my merits, thoughts, and
'Tis well, as I still go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
is she who knows her mind
And it though she may not please.
the audience
That hears such thoughts as these.