Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the of self-indulgence
Every I place my pen
Upon the page and form the
I felt but couldn't show 'til
And to I beg the question
Why do I thus
As one to one and to
else? If I, afraid
Of what the consequence of
Openly my cause be,
I rant and rhyme 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 I do not feel that
What I pen is alone,
this could be misguided
As are many I have
Who swore, poor souls, they possessed
The key to mysterious fate,
in convincing some,
But most could tell did but prate
On subjects something vague
cannot be unproven, or,
In place of content, in tongues
Yet know not whom speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
force divine, but still I know
That I shall be content
To hold my when I would speak
Or change my to suit the hour
Or a blush upon my cheek
To my joy at love gone sour.
I do not to disappoint
The faith that 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 those who listen
Can often what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
That my is askew,
That I write shyte and it song.
Perhaps always question thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'Tis well, as I still go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
Strong is she who knows her
And speaks it she may not please.
the audience
That such honest thoughts as these.