Strumming my pain with her fingers,

singing my life with her words,

killing me softly with her song,

killing me softly with her song,

telling my whole life with her words,

killing me softly with her song

I heard she sang a good song, I heard she had a style.

And so I came to see her to listen for a while.

And there she was this young girl, a stranger to my eyes.

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 she would finish but she just kept right on.

She sang　as if　she knew me in all my dark despair

and then she looked right through me as if I wasn't there.

But she just came to singing, singing clear and strong.