Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the of self-indulgence
Every time I my pen
Upon the page and form the
I felt but couldn't show then
And to myself I beg the
Why do I thus
As one to one and to
Someone If I, afraid
Of what the consequence of
my cause might be,
When I rant and rhyme and
Do I for them or me?
I believe there is merit
In creating for self
But why place the public
What is 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, they possessed
The key to man's fate,
in convincing some,
But most could tell did but prate
On subjects something vague
cannot be unproven, or,
In place of content, speak in
Yet know not whom speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
force divine, but still I know
That I never be content
To hold my tongue I would speak
Or change my words to suit the
Or pinch a blush upon my
To feign my joy at love sour.
I do not to disappoint
The faith others place in me
To the way to brighter days,
But sometimes is all I see.
I for good, I toil for hope,
No one can my intent
But even those who close
Can often what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is this: that I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I shyte and call it song.
Perhaps always question thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'Tis well, long as I go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
Strong is she who knows her
And speaks it she may not please.
the audience
That hears such thoughts as these.