INGLES

Bal-Pop

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, tis young boy, a stranger to my eyes.
Stumming my pain with his fingers
sining 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
Stumming my pain with his fingers
sining 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 it as 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 this stranger singing clear and strong.
Stumming my pain with his fingers
sining 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 was strumming there
yeah, he was singing my life.
Killing me softly with his song
tellin my whole life with his words
killing me softly... with his song.