Lost the passion for the art. That poetic justice I use to bring forward from the heart. Is that what made me real? If so I'm just as fake as Roman Cathology. Am i that book you tired of reading? laying on a shelf fighting dust bunnies. If so tell me where the passion go. Tell me where's the love I lost. I remember how you stroke my pages. How you opened me in half and just past your fingers through my body Oo. how much you read. For hours we were there on your bed. Just us, or you forgot. You had  no one left. Don't you miss my sensitive skin and Out lining of gold. Your favorite King James edition. I... I mean did you really trade religion for idealism. Didn't I help you preach unity. Tell me who have you left behind even Luis Farrakon was mentioned in your lines. Perfectly a lined to make the the next one better, and the old ones new like a retro pair nines. Tell me where's this woman we call justice or she a man. She beats us then she feeds us. Lost in my thoughts. Hard to understand the turmoil when you have won and you lost.