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