Hawkwind
Cymbaline
The path you tread is narrow and the drop is shear and very highThe ravens all are watching from a vantage point near byApprehension creeping like a tube-train up your spineWill the tightrope reach the end; will the final couplet rhymeAnd it's high time, CymbalineHigh time, CymbalinePlease wake me Butterfly with broken wings has falling by your sideThe ravens all are closing in there's nowhere you can hideYour manager and agent are both busy on the phoneSelling coloured photographs to magazines back homeAnd it's high time, CymbalineHigh time, CymbalinePlease wake me The lines converging where you stand they must have moved the picture planeThe leaves are heavy around your feet you hear the thunder of the trainSuddenly it strikes you that they're moving into rangeAnd Doctor Strange is always changing sidesAnd it's high time, CymbalineHigh time, CymbalinePlease wake me And it's high time, CymbalineIt's high time, CymbalinePlease wake me
From Letras Mania