| Strumming my pain with his fingers
|
| Singing my life with his words
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Telling my whole life with his words
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| I heard he sang a good song
|
| I heard he had a style
|
| And so I came to see him
|
| And listen for a while
|
| And there he was this young boy
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| A stranger to my eyes
|
| Strumming my pain with his fingers
|
| Singing my life with his words
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Telling my whole life with his words
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| I felt all flushed with fever
|
| Embarrassed by the crowd
|
| I felt he found my letters
|
| And read each one out loud
|
| I prayed that he would finish
|
| But he just kept right on
|
| Strumming my pain with his fingers
|
| Singing my life with his words
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Is killing me softly with his song
|
| Is telling my whole life with his words
|
| Is killing me softly with his song
|
| Ooh… lalalala-lala-la-lala
|
| Lalalala-lalalala
|
| Doorooroo-dadada-lalalala
|
| Oh… lalalala
|
| Doo-doo-dadada-lalalala
|
| Oh… lalalala
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Strumming my pain, woah… oh…
|
| He was singing my life, yeah…
|
| Killing me softly with his song
|
| Is killing me softly with his song
|
| Is telling my whole life with his words
|
| Is killing me softly with his song |