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