When the Last Eagle Flies

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

They will stare unbelieving at the last unicorn

I'm alive

When the first breath of winter through the flowers is 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 mourn

In the distance hear the laughter of the last unicorn

I'm alive