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!