|
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
|
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
|
|
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 wasnt there
|
But he was there this 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
|
|
|
|
-----------------
|
Killing me softly with his song
|
| Fugees |
