I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style
And so, I came 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 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, killing me softly with his song.
Telling my whole life with his words, killing me softly with his song.

(Guitare solo)

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
But he was there, a stranger 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.