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When
the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain
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 the 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 passed without a last, desperate
warning
Then
look into the stars where through the clouds a path
is torn;
Look
and see her, how she sparkles, it's the last unicorn!
I'm
Alive!
I'm
Alive!
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