Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the line of
time I place my pen
Upon the page and the words
I but couldn't show 'til then
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,
I rant and rhyme and reason
Do I write for or me?
I there is some merit
In creating for 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 I have known
Who swore, souls, that they possessed
The key to mysterious fate,
in convincing some,
But could tell they did but prate
On subjects touching something
Which be unproven, or,
In place of content, in tongues
Yet know not whom they're for.
No, I am not so;
I do not I represent
Some force divine, but I know
That I shall never be
To hold my tongue I would speak
Or my words 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 the way to brighter days,
But dark is all I see.
I for good, I toil for hope,
No one can my intent
But even who listen close
Can often mistake I meant.
My fear, I've to realize,
Is mainly that I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I shyte and call it song.
Perhaps I'll always thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'Tis well, as I still go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
Strong is she who her mind
And it though she may not please.
Fortunate the
That such honest thoughts as these.