The wings under his feet
My whole life I’ve been around skaters and their boards.
Being around them I get the exact reason why some of them,
most of them, love to skate.
He can feel the concrete and rocks,
From under his tattered shoes
Through the brand new blank,
But most have no clue.
Of how it feels
To ride away
From everything,
On just a set of wheels
at the end of the day.
Where else can he go,
His wings are under him.
Steady are his feet,
He’s ready to leave.
Sweat stings his eyes,
But the wind moves him along.
He’s riding to his own beat,
While singing that old song.
He goes where he wants,
And he rides till he’s gone.
No one else has a say in it,
Its just him and the board hes on.
Where else can he go,
His wings are under him.
Steady are his feet,
He’s ready to leave.
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