| Strummin' my pain with her fingers
|
| Singin' my life with her words
|
| Killing me softly with her song
|
| Killing me softly, with her song
|
| Telling my whole life with her words
|
| Killing me softly, with her song
|
| I heard she sang a good song
|
| I heard she had a style
|
| And so I came to see her
|
| To listen for a while
|
| And there she was this young girl
|
| A stranger to my eyes
|
| Strummin' my pain with her fingers
|
| Singin' my life with her words
|
| Killing me softly with her song
|
| Killing me softly, with her song
|
| Telling my whole life with her words
|
| Killing me softly, with her song
|
| I felt all flushed with fever
|
| Embarrassed by the crowd
|
| I felt she found my letters
|
| And read each one aloud
|
| I prayed that she would finish
|
| But she just kept right on
|
| Strummin' my pain with her fingers
|
| Singin' my life with her words
|
| Killing me softly with her song
|
| Killing me softly, with her song
|
| Telling my whole life with her words
|
| Killing me softly, with her song |