My father was unicorn,
A unicorn my mother.
A unicorn, a unicorn:
My sister and my brother.
They say I am not of their kin.
They say I bear a mark of sin.
I cannot help their scorn –
But I am what I am, since I was born.
My fur is white as new-born snow,
My feathered hooves are cloven.
My night-blue eyes like embers glow,
My smile of dreams is woven.
I look just like a unicorn,
Save that I bear an extra horn.
I wish it wasn’t so –
But I am, what I am, wheree’er I go.
I’ve got a horn to cure all ill
And one to end all living.
One horn to heal, one horn to kill,
For taking and for giving.
They say I am the devil’s own,
I spend my nights and days alone,
I bow beneath their will –
But I am, what I am, and am it still.
Of unicorns all children dream,
Of bicorns, they dream never.
And if they spy me, they will scream
And shun their dreams forever.
The children, whom I love so dear,
My extra horn is what they fear.
I suffer low esteem –
But I am, what I am, not what I seem.
A unicorn’s a killing beast,
Its horn is made for reaping.
On children’ dreams and souls they feast,
They feed whilst you are sleeping.
My extra horn’s the one to aid
All those who share my outcast fate,
All those with hopes deceased –
For I am, what I am: Myself at least.
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Text und Melodie © 2002 by Thesilée