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
else? If I, afraid
Of what the of stating
my cause might be,
When I rant and and reason
Do I write for or me?
I there is some merit
In creating for self
But why before the public
is best left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not feel
I pen is mine alone,
Even could be misguided
As are many I have
Who swore, poor souls, that they
The key to mysterious fate,
Succeeded in some,
But most could tell they did but
On subjects touching vague
Which be unproven, or,
In place of content, in tongues
Yet know not whom 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 tongue when I speak
Or change my words to suit the
Or pinch a upon my cheek
To feign my joy at love sour.
I do not to disappoint
The faith others place in me
To lead the way to days,
But dark is all I see.
I work for good, I for hope,
No one can question my
But those who listen close
Can often what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is mainly this: I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I write shyte and it song.
Perhaps I'll 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.