London: Red guitar...

"I heard he sang a good song
  I heard he had a style
  and so I came to see him
  and 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 softy 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 softy 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 kept on singing
Singing clear and loud

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softy with his song"

(Roberta Flack, Killing me softly)