You. Regulator.

Reality is one way.

You are another.

A babe of Mrs. Nature but

She is not your mother.

You march to a walking sound

A drum beat made by feet

Upon a major entity

You are keen to greet.

And work with.

And shape.

And if your marching satisfies

You will soon escape.

The confines of this drum.

Thank you, friend.

Barry out.

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