Cymbaline

The path you tread is narrow

And the drop is shear and very high

The ravens all are watching

From a vantage point nearby



Apprehension creeping

Like a tube-train up your spine

Will the tightrope reach the end

Will the final couplet rhyme



And it's high time, Cymbaline

It is high time, Cymbaline

Please wake me



A butterfly with broken wings

Is falling by your side

The ravens all are closing in

There's nowhere you can hide



Your manager and agent

Are both busy on the phone

Selling colored photographs

To magazines back home



And it's high time, Cymbaline

It is high time, Cymbaline

Please wake me



The lines converging where you stand

They must have moved the picture plane

The leaves are heavy around your feet

You hear the thunder of the train



And suddenly it strikes you

That they're moving into range

And Doctor Strange

Is always changing size



And it's high time, Cymbaline

It is high time, Cymbaline

Please wake me



And it's high time, Cymbaline

It is high time, Cymbaline

Please wake me