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
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 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. [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 whole life with his words
Killing me softly.

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.

But he was there a stranger
Singing clear and loud [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 whole life with his words
Killing me softly, with his song...