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 went to see him and listen for awhile. And there he was this young boy A stranger to my eyes. I felt all flushed with fever, Embarassed 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. 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. He just kept right on, Singin' clear and strong. Oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh oh La la la la la la, Woh la, woh la, la la la la.