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  When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain, and the last lion roars over the last dusty fountain, in the shadow of the forest, though she may be old and worn, they will stand unbelieveing, 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 seems the world is dying, and 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 futer has passed, without even a last desperate warning. then look into the sky where through, the clouds have had their sport, look and see her as she sparkles, she's the last unicorn
                                                       "I'm alive"
                                                       "I'm alive"
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