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 come to see him
  To listen for a while.
  And there he was, this young boy
  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 I flushed with fever,
  Embarrassed by the crowd.
  I felt he found my letters
  And read each one out loud.
  I loved 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,
  Killing me softly with his song,
  Telling my whole life with his words,
  Killing me softly with his song.
  He sang as if he knew me,
  In all my dark despair.
  And then he looked right through me
  As if I wasn‘t there.
  And he just kept on singing,
  Singing clear and strong.
  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.
  He was strumming my pain,
  He‘s singing my life,
  La, La, La...
  Killing me softly with his song.
  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.