Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the of self-indulgence
Every I place my pen
the page and form the words
I felt but couldn't show 'til
And to myself I beg the
Why do I masquerade
As one to one and to
else? If I, afraid
Of what the consequence of
my cause might be,
When I rant and rhyme and
Do I write for or me?
I believe there is merit
In creating for self
But why before the public
What is best on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not feel
I pen is mine alone,
Even this be misguided
As are I have known
Who swore, poor souls, 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 of content, speak in tongues
Yet know not they're 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 tongue when I would
Or change my words to suit the
Or pinch a blush upon my
To my joy at love gone 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 question my
But those who listen close
Can often what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
That my is askew,
That I shyte and call it song.
Perhaps I'll question thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'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 hears such honest as these.