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In a Rip

I feel like I'm in a rip, it's pulling me out to sea, I feel like I'm in a rip, but it's where I want to be. On the shore I see my friends, they're waving me back in. I needn't swim, though, for I know how rips work. In and out. I'll be back around soon. So for a sweet glisten, I stand upon the shore, I laugh with my friends, But then go back for more. I do fancy this merry-go-round. Sometimes I wish the rip ran straight, into the beckoning cold. It'd take me somewhere I like to be, away from anything that was, me. But to let it take me, how could I know, if there'd be rips where I should go.

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