Sleep Token's New Track “Caramel” Is Bittersweet and Vulnerable

Caramel, Sleep Token

Well, it’s finally happened. The great edging is over — Sleep Token have at last released the second track, Caramel, from their upcoming album, Even in Arcadia. I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting… but it certainly wasn’t this: an open, vulnerable, straight-from-the-heart confession delivered by Sleep Token’s masked singer, Vessel.

Musically, Caramel is a slow build. It begins delicately, with a softness that feels almost fragile, and gradually layers in a more upbeat, pop-inflected rhythm, all while holding onto the emotional weight Sleep Token are known for. By the time the chorus swells, it’s immersive and atmospheric, drawing you in before dropping into something darker and more intense with hard vocals, gruff guitars and harsh drums toward the end.

What struck me most is how direct this track feels. While Vessel often cloaks his lyrics in metaphor and ambiguity, Caramel feels unusually open. I can’t help but feel like he’s speaking straight to the fans here, lifting the mask, just a little, to show what’s underneath. There’s vulnerability in the lyrics that feels raw and honest, like a confession delivered through the music.

The lyrics explore a kind of emotional duality, an acknowledgement of how fortunate he is, while simultaneously laying bare the toll that public scrutiny, expectation, and exposure can take. There’s a tension between gratitude and exhaustion, between reverence and fear.

One line in particular captures this beautifully:

“Too blessed to be caught ungrateful, I know”

— a line that feels like it’s trying to keep things in perspective, but it’s followed later by:

“Terrified to answer my own front door”

— a stark contrast that underlines how isolating and anxiety-inducing that spotlight can be. It’s painfully human.

Other lines that stood out to me:

“Every time they try to shout my real name just to get a rise from me. Acting like I'm never stressed out by the hearsay.”

“This stage is a prison, a beautiful nightmare / A war of attrition, I'll take what I'm given / The deepest incisions, I thought I got better / But maybe I didn't.”

There’s a resigned weariness in these words, like someone fighting to hold it together, while being constantly watched, judged, and dissected. It's one of their most personal tracks to date: reflective, raw, and emotionally exposed.

Vessel doesn’t just perform here — he reveals.

You can watch my reaction to this remarkable song below.