The path you tread is narrow And the drop is sheer 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 And it's 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 coloured photographs to magazines back home
And it's high time Cymbaline And it's high time Cymbaline Please wake me
The lines converging where you stand They must have moved the picture plane The leaves are heavy round your feet You hear the thunder of the train Suddenly it strikes you that they're moving into range And Dr. Strange is always changing size
And it's high time Cymbaline And it's high time Cymbaline And it's high time Cymbaline And it's high time Cymbaline
