Hasty hooves bashing towards convent walls Another abbot's sent to sound new songs From the choir stalls Rumors spreading' fast A new order rules at last Archaic, fierce and strict Just pray you won't be picked To count your blessings Count your blessings Once you're done confessing You can count your blessings One by one you're did to the confessional Misgiving's rise, from inside brass a rancid smell The door's clunking shut As you own up to your smut Rasping vocal chords declare What indulgence you must bear A sudden swing in tone as you're done with your shrift The lattice bursts in smithers as a sacred gift A fierce grin lifting its shroud Black gloves, God's reaching out Death trap, stop dead in your tracks Sell ascends behind turned backs There's no point in confessing When death is the blessing