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 'til then
And to myself I beg the
Why do I thus
As one to one and to
Someone else? If I,
Of what the consequence of
Openly my might be,
When I rant and rhyme and
Do I write for or me?
I believe there is some
In creating for one's
But why before the public
is best left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not that
I pen is mine alone,
Even could be misguided
As are many I known
Who swore, souls, that they possessed
The key to man's fate,
Succeeded in some,
But most could tell they did but
On subjects touching something
cannot be unproven, or,
In of content, speak in tongues
Yet know not whom they're for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
Some divine, but still I know
I shall never be content
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 gone sour.
I do not wish to
The that 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 question my
But even those who close
Can often what I meant.
My fear, I've to realize,
Is this: 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.
is she who knows her mind
And speaks it she may not please.
Fortunate the
That hears honest thoughts as these.