text: 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