[bad word] 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 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 came to see him to listen for awhile
And there he was this young boy, a stranger to my eyes
 [bad word] 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 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 out loud
I prayed that he would finish But he just kept right on 
 [bad word] 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 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 wasn't there
And he just kept on singing
Singing clear and strong 
 [bad word] 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 life with his words
Killing me softly with his song

Нежное убийство

Он терзал мои нервы, словно это были
его струны
Он рассказывал в своей песне всю мою
жизнь, но своими словами
Он нежно убивал меня своей песней
Он нежно убивал меня своей песней
Он пересказывал всю мою жизнь своими
словами
Он нежно убивал меня своей песней

Мне говорили, что он поёт хорошие песни,
и у него есть свой собственный стиль
Вот я и пошла послушать его

И этот совсем незнакомый мне мальчишка…

…терзал мои нервы, словно это были