No surprises here There's nothing more predictable than fear We haven't changed much Since "you will not surely die from just a touch" Let the dead rhythms ring We have always turned the world into a thing And the shadow makes its haste Like a thief who knows his running is a waste New wine In old skin Is gonna take time To break in The old sign At the dead end Is where the next life Begins With new wine Sleep is coming soon Bitter sleep under a grief-stricken moon If you refuse her when she comes Then you will never be among the waking ones New wine In old skin Is gonna take time To break in The old sign At the dead end Is where the next life Begins And I've tried To come by That morning A million other ways But new wine And the shadow makes its haste And the shadow makes its haste Let the shadow make its haste