Boxing Day sales

The streets are heaving, and it's starting to hail

Golf balls of ice upon the Boxing Day sales

We spot each other in a mannequin's reflection

Sheltering under the eaves of French Connection

Over a scone, "Is Ellie still tap dancing?"

"Has Jenny kept up with her synchronized swimming?"

"And are things any better between you and Tom?"

"I'm so tired of hearing these awful Christmas songs"

Time to change the record

A howl of blizzard hurls the cafe door ajar

Ah, ah, you owe it to yourself

Owe it to yourself

Ah, ah, you owe it to yourself

Owe it to yourself

A drawing tablet with a 30-inch screen

A hulking stainless-steel espresso machine

Green amber earrings, noise-canceling headphones

Cranes paused mid-flight on a quilted kimono

You can't afford to not own this

Go on, go on, you owe it to yourself

Owe it to yourself

Ah, ah, you owe it to yourself

Owe it to yourself

Yes, you owe it to yourself

Owe it to yourself