He is the one who knows why I am here.

I got a job as a janitor in the clouds; I sweep up the storm clouds and bag them up. They told me, "It’ll rain by Thursday," But I said, "I can't; Wednesday is my day off." A pharmacy branch opened up inside my ear; They sell pills there for the meaning of life. I bought one, but it turned out to be a nail; Now I’m pinned to my own reflection. A retired giraffe lives on my balcony; He knits scarves out of my failures. I tell him, "That’s enough, I’ll turn things around," But he says, "Too late—I’ve already knitted you a noose." My sandwich sued me For eating it without any inspiration. The judge is an old sock from under the bed; He ruled: "Guilty, but let him go." I bought a house at the bottom of a glass; It’s always evening there, always Monday. Come visit me—but don't come sober, Or you won't make it through my reality. My nose ran off to join the circus; It’s a clown now, juggling scents. I shout, "Come back! I can't breathe without you," But it says, "Hang on—I’m playing to a full house." A programmer-mouse has moved into my head; It writes the code for my dreams. But a 404 error keeps popping up, And I wake up in someone else's body. I tried becoming a normal person, But normality is a myth for the weak. I went back to my closet, hugged Grandma, And we went on drinking tea from the toilet bowl. All in all, everything’s great, everything’s wonderful— It’s just that the miracles have gotten a bit tired. I sit here gnawing on the granite of knowledge, But the granite turned out to be a cookie.