The world on it depends, your faith will never end.

He knelt before the pope and tears fell from his eyes.
"My father, I am lost, for I no longer believe in god"
The pope looked up at the sky for a few moments,
looked back down and replied "Well then fake it" ...

but faking rapes the mind, and I wont rape anymore. Slowly
diving deep into a quagmire of paranoia. When the  great
Lord of Dreams wakes, he rides the subway to work in the
morning just like the rest of us. Contort our minds at
night, but serve happy meals during the day. He is only a
whisper of a man, spinning in infinity.

The crippled old man sat by the dirty street corner,
wearing
Dirty clothes, stroking a dirty beard. "Come here boy, come
Here I say!" And so he did. "Take this knife child. See that

man? Spill his blood. Spill his blood and it will be the
last
murder in the world" they boy stood momentarily, no
emotions
painted his face, and suddenly without warning, he took off

running. "Oy! Where are you going boy?" He turned around and

shouted out at a distance "Sorry Moshe, I must go, for its
dinner
time down in the ghetto"

 
There's a killer on the road. Sinking in the deep sea of
insanity. Who is he to look death in the eyes and have the
audacity to live? Look around, where are you going in your
head? Don't you know? The world on it depends, your faith
will never end.