Strumming my pain with my 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 the good song, I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him, and listen for a while
And there he was a young boy, a stranger to my eyes
REFRÃO
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
REFRÃO
He sang as if 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
REFRÃO
|
|
|
|
