I was fifteen but had a thousand troubles
This world was serious, I was too bohemian
I took my anger and my pain
I spat it all out on paper without hate

Oh, I write without being a writer
In the end, I made it my antidote
I write without being a writer
I write words, notes
To feel good

In the end, I made it my antidote

At seven, I was living on the French Riviera and I had
No friends, no friends
You know, it wasn't a big deal at all
Because there were my sisters and my sisters' friends
I already had music
Those songs we sang by heart
Nothing was sad anymore

I sing, I haven't changed
In the end, I made it my antidote
I sing, I haven't changed
I sing words, notes
To feel good

In the end, I made it my antidote
I sing words, notes
To feel good

Love, life, ambitions
Everything is a matter of passion
And in the hard times, and in doubt
And in the bad seasons
It costs me, of course
Many are still looking for it

I write without being a writer
In the end, I made it my antidote
I sing, I haven't changed
I sing words, notes
To feel good

Everyone has to find their own antidote
I sing words, notes
To feel good

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