Cymbaline

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