When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain,
And the last lion roars at the dusty fountain.
In the shadow of the forest, though she may be all and one,
They would stare unbelieving at last unicorn

When the first breath of winter through their flowers it's 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 more.
In the distance hear the laughter of the last Unicorn

Insert your comments below:
Name	(required!)
Comments	(required!)
Validation	(required!)