When I am dead and the light leaves my breast
Nothing to be told, nothing to confess
Let the record show what I couldn't quite confess
For by living for myself, I was living for unrest
Then the evidence came back in a chariot of vindication
Something to behold, glorious in its path
But the prophecy fell back
As it gave to me an invitation
Show them what is right, show them what is blessed

But now it strikes me far too late again
That I was asking far too much of everyone around me
And now it strikes me far too late again
That I should answer for myself
As the ascension falls upon me

So what should be said, of a life that leaves its mess?
For once your life was sold, it could never be possessed
You were selfishly as a continent
You were finally at your best
For you favored for yourself when selfishness was blessed
Then Cordelia came back in a chariot hallucination
Something to rejoice, glorious in its wrath
But the prophecy was a pantomime
As it came to me in accusation
Show them what is right, show them what is best

But now it strikes me far too late again
That I was asking far too much of everyone around me
And now it strikes me far too late again
That I should answer for myself
As the ascension falls upon me

And now it frightens me, the thought against my chest
To think I was asking for a reason
Explaining why everything's a total mess
And now it frightens me, the dreams that I possess
To think I was acting like a believer
When I was just angry and depressed
And to everything there is no meaning
A season of pain and hopelessness
I shouldn't have looked for revelation
I should have resigned myself to this

I thought I could change the world around me
I thought I could change the world for best
I thought I was called in convocation
I thought I was sanctified and blessed

But now it strengthens me to know the truth at last
That everything comes from consummation
And everything comes with consequence
And I did it all with exultation
While you did it all with hopelessness
Yes, I did it all with adoration
While you killed it off with all of your holy mess

What now?
(What now?)
(What now?)
(What now?)
(What now?
What now?
(What now?)
(What now?)
(What now?)
(What now?)

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): Sufjan Stevens