Je te déteste [English translation]

I'm not a musician

I'm not a singer

God gave me hands

To comfort my heart

If I could have known

How much you didn't care

I would have killed the hope

To take you with me

I'm not made of sugar

I'm not made of salt

But I smell good like love

Up to armpits

If I had a voice

And the required moustache

To be broadcasted on Nova*

You would come back soon

When I think about it

Nothing heals

The gap

That you left

It's true that when I think about it

I have to go on

The session is over I know, so...

So I let go of my fingers on my keyboard

I slap my strings rather than your buttocks

I scream with all my being on a piece of wood

Rather than in your ears that listen only to yourself

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E

And you're not the most cunning

No you're not the craziest

When you want to play it “as”

It is “as” and will remain “as” **

As what you are not

But used to show me

You can change your way

But not what you are

When I think about it

Nothing heals

The gap

That you left

It's true that when I think about it

I have to go on

The session is over I know, so ...

So I let go of my fingers on my keyboard

I slap my strings rather than your buttocks

I scream with all my being on a piece of wood

Rather than in your ears that listen only to yourself

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E

So I let go of my fingers on my keyboard

I slap my strings rather than your buttocks

I scream with all my being on a piece of wood

Rather than in your ears that listen only to yourself

I let my tears flow on a crumpled paper

On which I write “I hate you” with my hand and then

What else must I do

To get back on my feet

Send you threats

Or a disgusting dead rat?

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E, hate you

H-A-T-E

• Artist:Vianney