I only believe in Mariah Carey Christmas. And it begins when you feel her sweat in the midst of every single person in Manhattan on December 3 around 9PM (EST). No matter how crazy she gets — especially how crazy she gets: she is the mother of unreality. Her dawn continues to glisten in the pine-light, and she just Rocked-a-feller. Seriously, though. I’d rather a front tooth for Christmas. But if Mariah Carey keeps begging for me via radio and television in “All I Want For Christmas Is You,” I’d be her slave. Forever.
So oh, oh, oh, oh, so oh, oh, oh, oh
So oh, oh, oh, oh, so oh, oh, oh, oh
So oh, oh, oh, oh, so oh, oh, oh, oh
So oh, oh, oh, oh, so oh, oh, oh, oh
• Mariah Carey: http://www.mariahjournal.com
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