─I heard she sang a good song, I heard she had a style
And so I came to see her and listen for a while
And there she was this young girl, a stranger to my eyes
Strumming my pain with her fingers Singing my life with her words 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 out loud I prayed that she would finish but she just kept right on─ [ . . . ]