He was a dirt simple boy

He had a limp, he had a lazy eye

He was twisted by birth

His dad said he should have died

Don't know what did it

Genetic misprint

Or mommy's selfish sin

I guess a little of both created Roland Finn.​

And all summer long

I'd see him wading in his kiddie pool

He'd say, "Mom says next year

"I can go with you to public school"

But every morning

The bus'd roll up

And we'd all pile in

And all alone on his porch sat Roland Finn.​

And they don't make no medication

To cool the burn of humiliation

So he didn't waste determination

On someone else's world

A kid like that don't got the right

A kid like that don't learn to fight

(Get his head kicked in)

Best thing to do, forget how to cry

But they'd watch to see that tear appear

Below his crippled eye

He'd cock his head and turn beet red

Like some mad, perverted clown

Hyenas on a buffalo, they'd drag big Roland down again

Sometimes I hated Roland Finn.​

And most afternoons

I could see him waiting for my bus

So I'd rush to get off

Kinda scared but mostly curious

Was it bravery

Or was he crazy

He knew what they'd do to him

I guess he didn't want to believe he was Roland Finn.​

And, whether cowardice or kindness

I grab his arm and never look behind us

And run to a place they'd never find us

Except they always did

Too scared to say he was my friend

I'd watch them take him down again

(I was just a little kid)

A laughing child

Is mom and dad's most joyful noise

But there ain't

No sound more hideous

Than laughing little boys

To a nine-year-old who's told that he was

Born to be ashamed

And a friend like me so scared that he could

Learn to turn the blame on him

God, I'm so sorry, Roland Finn.​