The person who makes it, sells it. The person who buys it, never uses it. The person who uses it doesn’t know they are.

With words unnumber’d I abound,
In me mankind take much delight,
In me great store of learning’s found,
Yet I can neither read nor write

What gets wetter the more it dries?

Tho’ good fellows we are,
We can’t hope to be saved;
From our very first day,
To our last we’re enslav’d,
Our office is hardest,
And food sure the worst,
Being cramm’d with raw flesh,
Till we’re ready to burst.

I am the beginning of the end,
and the end of time and space.
I am essential to creation,
and I surround every place.