Dropped out at 17, life’s too short for a classroom role/
Mum and Dad they screamed, yet another kid on the dole/
But I got this strategy, a big ol’ plan to make the world my zone/
Gonna get my Cert 3, in landscaping get my bank balance grown/

Back to school sales got the goods, got my pen and paper and an attitude bold/
First week of classes to the teacher’s dismay saw the whole classroom get outta control/
Then the guy sitting next to me opened up his mouth and the wisdom was gold/
If ya wanna be a real tradie, buy a ute and start datin’ sixteen year olds/

At the Jism Institute Of TAFE, I’m climbing up the walls/
In the classroom by the bay, I walk before I crawl/
Cos P’s they get degrees, but a satisfactory gets a Cert 3/
At the Jism Institute of TAFE, Education ain’t a guarantee/

And then in ten years I’ll be finding out/
Getting my own Cert 3 was my finest hour/
Mum was so proud and my Dad he cried/
Then I bought the McMansion, at least I tried/

Had to book in me for white card first, everyone knows it’s the golden key/
Of course even that one day course was just yobs causing anarchy
Not that I'm above all that, I wear my Centrelink on my sleeve/
Cause if the real tradies are John Howards and I’ll be their Peter Reith/

And then in twelve years I’ll be finding out/
Getting my own Degree was my finest hour/
Oh, The girlfriend was stoked but my daddy sighed/
Said degrees got you money now I know he lied/

And just like that, You’re a rich man now/
With the high-school wife, And the hilltop house/
I tell myself, I’m the smarter man/
But brainpower means nothing when you’re shovelling sand/

Dig (x32)

And in fifty years I’ll be finding out/
Getting through VCE was my finest hour/
Oh my sister was glowing and my teachers proud/
Then schoolies fried my brain my revenge I vowed/