Twisted Beautiful

An archer ran blind thru a lush dark garden Don't run to the light , come To my dark .
    Her stone roses of fire , and thorns of dead ice , don't run to the light , come to my dark . 
    There's gold in us , my gloom vines are twisted beauty , don't run to the light , come to my dark.
    This tree of bones teaches you well. Don't run to the light , come to my dark.
     You feed my grim crickets often , one day you'll know .
Don't run to the light , come to my dark.