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 . . .
|
|
Strummin' my pain with her fingers,
|
Singin' 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 felt all flushed with fever,
|
Embarrassed by the crowd,
|
I felt she found my letters,
|
And read each one aloud . . .
|
|
I prayed that she would finish,
|
But she just kept right on . . .
|
|
Strummin' my pain with her fingers,
|
Singin' 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 . . .
|
|
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 was there, this stranger,
|
Singing clear and strong . . .
|
|
Strummin' my pain with her fingers,
|
Singin' 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 . . .
|
|
Killing me softly, with her song . . .
|
|
-----------------
|
Killing Me Softly with Her Song
|
Perry Como |