Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the line of
Every time I my pen
Upon the and form the words
I felt but couldn't show 'til
And to I beg the question
Why do I thus
As one to one and to
Someone If I, afraid
Of what the consequence of
Openly my might be,
When I rant and and reason
Do I for them or me?
I there is some merit
In creating for one's
But why place the public
is best left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not feel
What I pen is alone,
this could be misguided
As are many I have
Who swore, poor souls, that they
The key to man's fate,
in convincing some,
But most could tell did but prate
On subjects something vague
Which be unproven, or,
In of content, speak in tongues
Yet know not they're speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
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 my joy at love gone sour.
I do not to disappoint
The that others place in me
To lead the way to days,
But sometimes is all I see.
I work for good, I for hope,
No one can question my
But those who listen close
Can mistake what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I write and call it song.
Perhaps I'll always thus,
Discount my merits, thoughts, and
'Tis well, long as I go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
is she who knows her mind
And speaks it she may not please.
Fortunate the
That such honest thoughts as these.