Come With Me to Transylvania

Lovely hair, isn't it my dear? Rain beating on the granite, the smell of the fresh dog earth, and the wither and flowers.

Uncanny, but I have a feeling you and I were meant to share all this. Here, take my hand. Come with me, come with me. Come with me to trial, Sylvania. You'll like it there. You'll look round in Transylvania, cobwebs in your hair.

We'll hear the wolves that even tried. We'll have our coffins side by side. When we arise, we'd feel such pride to be home, to be home. You'll like the folks in Transylvania. They're just your kind.

You feel at home among the mummies and the frankensterns One hundred years you'll share with me for maybe two Or even three I know the way to try and live in your come my dear with me In every way my dear Transylvania's the real you Somehow life there moves at the same pace.

Not that it's dull. On the contrary, some nights it's positively festive. Ha ha ha ha ha. You will see the werewolves changing shape. Skeleton's dance and creek and scrape. You may see King Kong going ape as a rule.

He's real cool. Later on in Transylvania. If we're alone, maybe we can learn to build a monster of our own, supporting you.