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