I’m dreaming of a white... «Chroma»
Opiratsblu31 марта 2019I’m dreaming of a white Christmas. This song could only be sung in southern California around a swimming pool. Here, at the first hint of snow British Rail runs to a standstill, the roads become impassable, and even the pavements are a danger as the salt destroys your shoes. Christmas, born of a virgin. White cotton. Wool beards. And a gross exchange of superfluous gifts. The barometer of the mind drops into depression. A child of good intention who brought the opposite: fear, loathing, mad American preachers who shout at you. A saviour who saved nothing but the illusions of his own, and certainly not the white Christmas turkeys boiled alive after standing in a crowd for a year (yes, they’re dreaming of a white Christmas!).
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