Luyện nghe bài hát On Artistic Integrity

I toe the line of
Every I place my pen
Upon the page and form the
I felt but couldn't 'til then
And to I beg the question
Why do I masquerade
As one to one and to
Someone If I, afraid
Of what the of stating
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 place before the
What is left on the shelf?
Though while I write I do not that
I pen is mine alone,
Even this could be
As are many I known
Who swore, poor souls, they possessed
The key to man's fate,
in convincing some,
But most could tell did but prate
On subjects touching vague
Which be unproven, or,
In place of content, in tongues
Yet know not whom speaking for.
No, I am not so;
I do not feel I
Some force divine, but still I
That I never be content
To hold my tongue when I would
Or change my to suit the hour
Or pinch a blush my cheek
To feign my joy at gone 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 work for good, I 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 I'll question thus,
my merits, thoughts, and deeds
'Tis well, long as I go forth
And see this, my vision, leads.
Strong is she who her mind
And speaks it she may not please.
Fortunate the
That hears such thoughts as these.