No man is a champion,
　　anyone of the whites;
　　every shot is a piece of the fireworks,
　　a celebration to the Juventus.
　　If the ball be passed to Cristiano,
　　a futility is the attempt,
　　as well as the Welsh,
　　as well as even the S-defenders in minutes before final:
　　any shot’s failure not surprises me,
　　because zebra has the greatest door-god,
　　and, therefore,
　　never send to know for whom the bells tolls;
    it tolls for Madrid.
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FROM 58.196.173.*