Come to Me It is night And the music that spreads to your head Doesn't come from outside It is dark And the fountains of fruit that appear do not stem from your eyes Come to me, come to me I will show you that there is no way except this Come to me, come to me I will show you that there is no way It is night And the hand that you touch with your own Does not not stem from the songs that you write There are songs that will blind him and make it all up to you There are songs that will find him and make him stay with you