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Strumming 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 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,
a stranger to my eyes.

Strumming 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,
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...

Strumming 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...

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.

Strumming 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...

Strumming 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...

He was strumming my pain,
he was in my life,
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...

Rasgueando mi dolor con sus dedos,
cantando mi vida con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
contando mi vida entera con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción...

Le oí cantar una buena canción,
oí que él tenía estilo,
y por eso vine a verle,
para escucharle un rato.
Y allí estaba este muchacho joven,
un extraño a mis ojos.

Rasgueando mi dolor con sus dedos,
cantando mi vida con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
contando mi vida entera con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción...

Me sentí toda ruborizada con fiebre,
avergonzada por el público,
sentía que él encontró mis letras,
y leía cada una en voz alta.
Rogué para que él terminara,
pero él continuaba...

Rasgueando mi dolor con sus dedos,
cantando mi vida con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
contando mi vida entera con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción...

Él cantó como si me conociera
en toda mi oscura desesperación.
Y entonces él miró a través de mí
como si yo no estuviera allí.
Y él siguió cantando,
cantando claro y fuerte.

Rasgueando mi dolor con sus dedos,
cantando mi vida con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
contando mi vida entera con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción...

Rasgueando mi dolor con sus dedos,
cantando mi vida con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
contando mi vida entera con sus palabras,
matándome...

Él estaba rasgueando mi pena,
él estaba en mi vida,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
matándome suavemente con su canción,
contando mi vida entera con sus palabras,
matándome suavemente con su canción...