Misty cold nights. You'll hear her sigh. And sing bitter. sweet lullabies. For years she prayed. The saints would cast. a spell for the. forest to let her go. She sings.... She dreams.... She prays.... The black old well. Holds ancient tales. And makes all wishes come true. So throw your dream. Into the dark. And Blue will come for you. She sings.... She dreams.... She prays.... She sings.... she plays.... she stays.... Ahh Ahhhh. Ahh Ahhhh