When the last eagle flies
Over the last crumbling mountains.
And the last lion roars
At the last dusty fountain.
In the shadow of the forest,
Though she may be old and worn,
They will stare unbelieving
At the last unicorn.
When the first breath of winter
Through the flowers is icing,
And you look to the north,
And a pale moon is rising.
And it seems like all is dying,
And would leave the world to mourn,
In the distance, hear the laughter
Of the last unicorn.
I'm alive!
I'm alive!
When the last moon is cast
Over the last star of morning.
And the future has past,
Without even a last desperate warning.
Then looking to the sky where
Through the clouds, a path is formed
You can see her
How she sparkles!
It's the last unicorn!
