There exists an ethereal plane in Spain,
which does sustain
a strange game most arcane.
The aim
is to train the brain
to arraign
just above the inane
but below the insane.
Those who either quietly feign,
loudly ascertain,
or brutally maintain,
this strange campaign
is merely to rein in a reign
where one may regain
lost fame, only feign
to love life humane.
It is quite plain
to sustain this claim most vain
one must retain a cruel inner pain
which does ingrain a terrain
that gives an intense mental sprain.
How can they deign to explain
this is nothing but a deranged refrain?
One must restrain
an overwhelming strain of disdain
when this strange vein
is lain before the public domain.
Thus, to regain a sense urbane,
since to complain is so mundane,
let us rather sip champagne,
snort a wee bit of high octane cocaine,
and pray this Iberian bane of a strain,
if not in the main, slain,
is, at the very least, on the wane.