The path you tread is narrow and the drop is shear and very high
The ravens all are watching from a vantage point near by
Apprehension creeping like a choo-train up your spine
Will the tightrope reach the end; will the final cuplet rhyme
And its high time
Cymbaline
Its high time
Cymbaline
Please wake me Butterfly with broken wings is falling by your side
The ravens all are closing in theres no where you can hide
Your manager and agent are both busy on the phone
Selling colored photographs to magazines back home
And its high time
Cymbaline
Its 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
Suddenly it strikes you that theyre moving into range
Doctor Strange is always changing size
And its high time
Cymbaline
Its high time
Cymbaline
Please wake me And its high time
Cymbaline
Its high time
Cymbaline
Please wake me
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