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's high time 
Cymbaline 
Please wake me 

A butterfly with broken wings 
Is falling by your side 
The ravens all are closing in 
And 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 
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 around your feet 
You hear the thunder of the train 
And suddenly it strikes you 
That they're moving into range 
Doctor Strange is always changing size 

And it's high time 
Cymbaline 
It's high time 
Cymbaline 
Please wake me 

And it's high time 
Cymbaline 
It's high time 
Cymbaline 
Please wake me