The world hopper hops at the start of each day
He moves onto new worlds with no time for delay
And on each of his visits he solemnly searches
in laundromats, subways, soup kitchens, and churches
He runs from the truth that he knows that he shouldn't
I asked him to stay though I knew that he wouldn’t
He runs for he knows each day ends like the last
that as fast as he runs he can’t outrun the past
He runs from the knowledge of infinite boredom
Clings desperate instead to his world hopping whoredom
He runs from the aeons of deafening silence
He runs from the eras of sickening violence
He runs for he hopes he might suddenly find
something that makes it worth staying behind