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
there they will unbelieving at the last unicorn
when the first breath of winter through the flowers is the icing
and you look to the north and a pale moon is rising
and it seems like old 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 even a last desperate warning
then look into the sky where through the clouds a path is torn
look and see her how she sparkles,it's the last unicorn.