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Time flies, passing by us.
Years are like songs, engraved in our hearts.
Remember that old chair under the tree.
It used to support you silently.
Remember that old box in the corner of the classroom?
It once shared your fatigue.
How many infatuated days and nights
How many sleepless nights
How much excitement of victory and failure
How much do I feel alone?
The sun shines on my endless happiness.
Winter has sharpened my strong will.
An unforgettable bitter confidant.
That's your eternal beauty
Can't forget the efforts of * * *
That is our eternal precious memory.
Many yesterdays
Everything is not in the memory, not in the calendar, not in the luggage.
Silence in the sunset today.
So as not to make any noise accidentally.
Tomorrow, I will roll down the steps of the teaching building layer by layer.
The last class is to say goodbye to the teacher.
The last exam is to say goodbye to school.
The final graduation thesis defense is a farewell to students' career.
We will graduate tomorrow.
Six years. Six years is actually like this.
Like a thread-bound book
On sunny or cloudy days.
Soaked by mountain spring water, the neon age is concentrated.
We went through the pages.
Look at Hanwu in Qin Huang.
Look at the pigeons in Guanguan.
Look at the layers of forest.
Brilliant years, six years of elegance.
How many trials and tribulations, how many struggles.
I am about to bid farewell to the tranquility of the ivory tower.
Go to the wider world to travel and fight.
Build a blue dream in the time tunnel
Establish a firm belief in the long river of years
Where is farther than the sea and where is higher than the sky.
Fly your dreams and burn your hopes.
We will graduate tomorrow.
Not all flowers
Can be a pet in spring.
Not all dreams
Is so charming
Fate! It could be the idol.
Youth is a seed that must go up.
When the sky meets the clouds, the Milky Way wants to turn to Qian Fan dance.
Advance on the road of growth
Blue lightning flashed across the thorny wilderness.
Let's hold the whip of time and catch up with success.
Fly your dreams and burn your hopes.
We will graduate tomorrow.
Six years. Six years is not far away.
The season of staying awake for the fever of lovesickness is not far away.
It is not far away to be intoxicated by the night when Shenzhou VI soars.
Poetry is not far, dreams are not far, and the wind in my hometown is not far.
It was yesterday that was far away.
Thick commemorative album, full of parting locks and lovesickness.
It's childhood that hasn't grown up, and tomorrow that can't sing.
There is helplessness and joy.
I have always been confused and imagined.
I've always been lonely and full.
I have been bored and excited.
Graduation is not a ship returning to Hong Kong, but a sail.
Graduation is not the end of study, but the starting point of a new life.