At their desks, pen in hand, the 12s write their final
07h40, first day of exams in January
This is China you know
A strange cold classroom with desks fanned out
Some like to cooperate to graduate
Yes, teachers still call it cheating
Proctors scan the room
Heads bent low, some furtive eyes
A sigh, a moan, a smile
Winners and losers, just desserts
Two hours from now it will all be over
Except the crying
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