mclean

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

i felt all flushed with fever
embarrassed by the crowd
i felt he'd found my letters
and read each one out loud
i prayed that he would finish
but he just kept right on

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
this stranger, singing clear and loud

strumming my pain with his fingers
singing my life with his words
killing me softly with his song
telling my whole life with his words
killing me softly with his song