The Last Unicorn

When the last eagle flies,

over the last crumbling mountain

αnd 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

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...