Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the of self-indulgence
time I place my pen
Upon the and form 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
else? If I, afraid
Of what the of stating
my cause might be,
When I and rhyme and reason
Do I write for or me?
I there is some merit
In creating for one's
But why place before the
What is left on the shelf?
while I write I do not feel that
What I pen is alone,
Even could be misguided
As are I have known
Who swore, souls, that they possessed
The key to man's fate,
Succeeded in some,
But most could they did but prate
On touching something vague
Which be unproven, or,
In of content, speak in tongues
Yet not whom they're speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not I represent
Some force divine, but still I
That I shall never be
To my tongue when I would speak
Or my words to suit the hour
Or a blush upon my cheek
To my joy at love gone sour.
I do not wish to
The faith others place in me
To lead the way to days,
But dark is all I see.
I for good, I toil for hope,
No one can question my
But even who listen close
Can often what I meant.
My fear, come to realize,
Is mainly this: I am wrong,
my perception is askew,
That I shyte and call it song.
Perhaps I'll question thus,
Discount my merits, thoughts, and
'Tis well, long as I still go
And see this, my vision, leads.
Strong is she who her mind
And it though she may not please.
Fortunate the
That hears honest thoughts as these.