From the fall's dawn,

to the springs night.

Blood flowing rough,

from the earlier fight.


When the croud would clear,

and the flag would raise.

We would lift our arms in the air,

we would sing, we would praise.


Now the story may sound wrong,

but it may sound right.

For many of us high school is rough

high school is a fight.


When our names are called on the stage,

and our family in visitation.

We made it though the quick part of life

we have made it to Graduation.


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