GREEN IS THE COLOR

The path you tread is narrow
And the drop is sheer 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
Yes 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
Yes 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 round your feet
You hear the thunder of the train
Suddenly it strikes you
That they're moving into range
And Doctor Strange is always changing size

And it's high time...
Cymbaline
Yes it's high time...
Cymbaline
Please wake me

And it's high time...
Cymbaline
Yes it's high time...
Cymbaline
Please wake me

Careful with that axe, Eugene
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh

Little by little the night turns around
Counting the leaves which tremble at dawn
Lotuses lean on each other in yearning
Under the eaves a swallow is resting
Set the controls for the heart of the sun

Over the mountain watching the watcher
Breaking the darkness waking the grapevine
One inch of love is one inch of shadow
Love is the chateau that ripens the wine
Set the controls for the heart of the sun
The heart of the sun...

Witness the man who raves at the wall
Making the shape of his question to heaven
Whether the sun will fall in the evening
Will he remember the lesson of giving?
Set the controls for the heart of the sun
The heart of the sun...