Finale Lyrics – Wicked

Song Overview

Song Credits

• Album: Wicked (15th Anniversary Special Edition)
• Release Date: 2003-12-16
• Producer: Stephen Schwartz
• Writer: Stephen Schwartz
• Genre: Broadway, Musical
• Instruments: Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello, Harp, Flute, Oboe, Clarinet, Bassoon, French Horn, Trumpet, Trombone, Drums, Guitar, Bass, Synthesizer
• Label: Decca Broadway
• Primary Artists: Kristin Chenoweth & Idina Menzel
• Orchestration: William David Brohn
• Conductor: Stephen Oremus
• Recording Engineer: Frank Filipetti
• Mastering Engineer: Ted Jensen
• Mixing Engineer: Frank Filipetti
• Associate Conductor & Arranger: Alex Lacamoire

Song Meaning and Annotations

Just before the voices rise in Wicked’s Finale, a single melody slips in — quiet, familiar, haunting. It’s a callback to Elphaba’s hopeful refrain in “The Wizard and I”:

“A celebration throughout Oz, that’s all to do with me.”

The celebration came — but not the way she imagined. The joy in Oz isn’t about honoring Elphaba’s greatness, but about her downfall. That once-aspirational line now lands like a bitter twist: her name is known across the land, but only through fear and falsehood.

This musical motif also draws us back into the timeline’s full circle. It first surfaced in “No One Mourns the Wicked,” the show’s opening — a song that cast Elphaba as the villain before we knew her. Now that we’ve lived her story, that same melody carries weight, history, and heartbreak.

*soft underscoring of memory* We return to the present not with fresh celebration, but with quiet understanding. The audience knows now what the people of Oz do not: Elphaba’s so-called wickedness was never about evil — it was about resistance, loss, and misunderstood courage.

This finale is built around that very idea—coming full circle, only now everything is reframed. The crowd’s chant of “Good news!” echoes from the beginning of the show, but feels entirely altered. Stripped of the booming percussion, delivered more slowly, the refrain is no longer pompous or blindly joyful. It has a somber, more reflective tone. The fervor is gone. It's as if the people of Oz are beginning to question the narrative they’ve been fed.

Instrumentally, the music subtly recalls Glinda’s line from the opening—“And goodness knows, the wicked's lives are lonely; goodness knows, the wicked die alone.” But now that line is played without lyrics and its triumphant percussion. The transformation in tone speaks volumes. The audience has watched Glinda suffer in her way, just as Elphaba did. Loneliness and sorrow aren't exclusive to the so-called wicked. Glinda, who once stood confidently before the citizens of Oz, condemning her friend, now stands conflicted and alone.

It’s telling that Glinda doesn’t sing that lyric again. Instead, we only hear its stripped-down melody, as if Glinda herself is unable—or unwilling—to speak the same condemnation. Her silence is the absence of judgment. It’s the weight of knowing too much. She can’t talk about wickedness anymore, because she’s lived its complexity. She’s seen Elphaba’s pain, her integrity, and her humanity. She's wrestled with her own complicity and grief.

This shift is mirrored in the crowd’s changed behavior. Where once they sang “Good news!” with bombast, now they echo it with hesitation. Their joy has been replaced by doubt. If Glinda has told them everything—the whole truth shown in the musical—then their simple ideas of good and evil have been shattered. That’s one of Wicked’s core themes: the ambiguity of morality, the gray space between the extremes. And now, faced with that reality, the crowd hesitates. They're no longer quite so sure who the villain is.

Meanwhile, the lyrics from “For Good” resurface heartbreakingly. Glinda and Elphaba, who just moments earlier shared a painfully beautiful farewell, begin to say it again—“Because I knew you…”—but they are drowned out. The ensemble’s rousing return to “No one mourns the wicked” interrupts the final note of connection between the two women. The moment feels almost cruel. They are on the verge of openly acknowledging how deeply they’ve changed one another. They might even be about to say it—“I have been changed for good.” But society, symbolized by the roaring chorus, doesn’t let them finish.

This isn't just a musical interruption, it’s a thematic one. The ensemble, and by extension, society itself, is what keeps Glinda and Elphaba apart. It's the force that demands separation, that enforces roles: good vs. wicked, light vs. dark. The characters may have found mutual understanding, but the world around them hasn’t evolved. That interruption is a devastating reminder that truth isn’t always louder than tradition.

And yet, this is the end, just as it is the beginning. The final moments of Wicked echo the first scene of No One Mourns the Wicked, but we now watch it with new eyes. We see Glinda from before she floats down in her bubble. We also catch a glimpse of Elphaba and Fiyero escaping Oz. In the book that inspired the musical, the story ends with this quiet exchange:

“And did the old witch come out?”

“Not yet.”

That final line lingers. It suggests that Elphaba’s story isn’t really over. That maybe, one day, she’ll return. Maybe the world will be ready for her. Maybe the definitions of “good” and “wicked” will finally break apart, once and for all.

The curtain call of Wicked doesn’t close quietly — it floats down like a bittersweet balloon, tethered by dual realities. In the final number, "Finale “Wicked”", the citizens of Oz are throwing a parade, celebrating the supposed death of Elphaba. But the music betrays their revelry with a haunting undertone, a thread of mourning sung quietly — intimately — by Glinda.

“No One Mourns the Wicked” — Reframed

The chorus chants:

"No one mourns the Wicked / Now, at last, she's dead and gone"

— echoing the musical’s opening. Yet, this time, the line doesn’t feel righteous. It sounds hollow, performative. We know the truth, and so does Glinda. The so-called Wicked Witch isn’t wicked, and she’s not gone.

The Power of Unseen Farewells

The heart of the finale is Elphaba and Glinda’s reprise of “For Good” — just one line:

"Because I knew you, I have been changed"

That’s it. That’s the dagger in the dialogue. It's a farewell stitched with regret, gratitude, and transformation. Their story — two women who defied expectations and forged a bond stronger than gravity — ends not with a bang, but with whispered legacy.

Musically, the orchestra swells with strings and winds, the same instruments that carried Elphaba’s hopes in "The Wizard and I." The reprise of that melody, now instrumental, brings the story full circle — from dreaming of fame to escaping into obscurity.

Similar Songs

1. “For Good” – Wicked
   Naturally, the penultimate number sets the emotional blueprint for the finale. Its themes of friendship, sacrifice, and identity echo like a farewell letter you keep rereading. "Finale" borrows its refrain to magnify finality.
2. “Finale B” – RENT
   Another Broadway ending that emphasizes memory over tragedy. Where Wicked closes in secrecy and selflessness, RENT leaves us with a chorus of names, losses, and the promise that no one is truly gone.
3. “Into the West” – Annie Lennox (from The Lord of the Rings)
   Though cinematic, this lullaby shares the bittersweet closure of “Finale “Wicked””. It's about passage, endings that feel like beginnings, and the unspoken goodbyes we leave behind in our wake.

Questions and Answers

Why do the citizens of Oz celebrate Elphaba’s “death”?

They’ve been fed propaganda and fear, believing her to be a villain. The celebration is a societal release, a cleansing of constructed evil — unaware of the truth behind her disappearance.

Why does Glinda sing “Because I knew you…” in the finale?

It’s a private moment of grief and growth. Despite everything, Elphaba left an indelible mark on her. The line is Glinda’s silent tribute to their bond, hidden amidst the public cheer.

Is Elphaba actually dead at the end?

No. Elphaba faked her death to escape persecution. It’s a magical sleight of hand that allows her freedom — at the cost of being remembered as a monster.

How does the orchestration enhance the emotion?

The blend of mournful strings and triumphant brass creates a dual emotional palette — joy for some, heartbreak for others. It mirrors the duality of the moment: a public victory and a private loss.

What message does the finale leave us with?

Legacy is not what’s celebrated, but what’s remembered by those who knew us best. Elphaba’s truth lives on not in statues or songs, but in Glinda’s heart. And that is quietly revolutionary.