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I heard he sang a good song |
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I heard he had a style |
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And so I came to see him |
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To listen for a while |
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And there he was this young boy |
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A stranger to my eyes |
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Strumming my pain with his fingers |
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Singing my life with his words |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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Telling my whole life with his words |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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I felt all flushed with fever |
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Embarassed by the crowd |
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I felt he found my letters |
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And read each one out loud |
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I prayed that he would finish |
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But he just kept right on |
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Strumming my pain with his fingers |
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Singing my life with his words |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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Telling my whole life with his words |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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He sang as if he knew me |
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In all my dark despair |
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And then he looked right through me |
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As if I wasn't there |
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And he just kept on singing |
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Singing clear and strong |
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Strumming my pain with his fingers |
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Singing my life with his words |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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Killing me softly with his song |
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Telling my whole life with his words |
|
Killing me softly with his song |
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Killing me softly with his song |
|
Telling my whole life with his words |
|
Killing me softly |
