If you’ve ever undertaken a stretch at Uni,
living as a student and partying like a loony,
only to come out at the end and find
that, three years later, you’re financially behind.
They said, get a degree, you’ll make more money,
you can retire with more and live somewhere sunny.
The whole time your friends are living and earning
whilst you spend your best years studying and learning
but the problem with that is, you’ve never got cash,
to go out with your friends who can behave all flash,
whose current lives appear smooth and perfect
as if going to Uni was just not worth it.
They’ll drive about in their flash new car
partying extravagantly, wealthier by far
and you think, why the fuck am I doing all of this?
Having no money literally takes the piss.
I could’a got an apprenticeship or an NVQ
and be working currently and living it up too.
But, no. I chose to plan for the future;
building up my education, listening to my tutor,
whilst studying for exams, living in front of a computer.
And, yeah, Uni was fun. In fact, it was sick -
but it is not the way to make money quick.
Getting a degree is just not enough
employers want work experience, and getting it is tough.
Fuck doing voluntary work, I wanna get paid.
Instead of university, maybe I shoulda stayed.
Temping jobs to get money in the mean time,
working in call centers, bored writing this rhyme,
answering phone calls from slack jawed yokels
whose vocals are crockles caused by local smoke holes.
Societies toke souls, broke souls, making hope calls.

In search for advice from medically trained locals
but I studied psychology,
so what do they want from me?
I got this job through a fucking temping agency.
I know nothing about medicine -
your sons bumped his head again?
Inject him with epinephrine.
That’s how I’ll encourage them

How is it to be
that Mr. Psychology me
gets employed to oversee
a sick needy society
with the wrong type of degree?
Yet still living off an 18 year olds wage,
waiting days and days until I get paid.
Spending a day’s wages all in an hour
in a bar, on a drink and one apple sour.
Two hours if I buy one for her as well,
one night of drinking equals overdraft hell
meaning I come out of Uni in even more debt,
more money they’ll chase for if I forget
and it’s a waste of tough money if I just get played
after buying many drinks without getting laid
which brings me back to needing to be saved:
I want someone to come along and rescue me,
throw me a life line where I can grow financially.
Something that I can jump on and handle tangibly,
some sort of position where I can use my degree
and get a home, climb the ladder of the housing market,
get a porsche and a girlfriend and get life kick started.
Three full years - that’s all it took -
partying partly with my nose in a book
cos to get anywhere after, you need high marks

to compete with hundreds of other bright sparks.
So for now I’ll just grumble, bitch and complain
and write poems like this which are in essence inane
because moaning ain’t helpful it’s just mundane.
But if this routine continues it’ll drive me insane.

 Copyright. 2009-2010 James Francis