Skaters leave puberty

Skaters came in and to drop off their fathers
Old timers who´d come to be a part of the chaos
Dropping off their fathers like they were baggage before a flight
Still trendy and provocative, clothes city screens, hair of sunlight

Skaters coming in to add to the weight but I won´t sink
We can´t be blasé like them
Forbidden drinks only they can drink
They lost youth, but still pretend

bringing in their old timers
like missiles
The only caution they wear
in the absense of their smiles

And each trick
is a vanity
Is a wrinkle on their father´s cheeks

Every brick of slang they sling
is a colorless wall
where my graffiti sings

And as each of their old books
take up space on the shelves
My heavenly spray paint goes to hell

They are never truly free
No amount of nonconformity
or new expression vanity
could ever really liberate from their need
for exhibiting