Mr President, I am writing you a letter
That you will read, perhaps
If you have the time
I came to receive
My military papers
To go to the war
Last Wednesday evening
Mr President
I don't want to do that
I am not on this earth
To kill these poor people
It's not to make you angry
I must say to you
My decision is made
I am going to desert
Since I was born
I saw my father die
I saw my brothers leave
And my children cry
My mother has suffered so much
That she is inside her tomb
And she mocks bombs
And she mocks their targets
When I was a prisoner
You stole my wife from me
You stole my soul from me
And all dear to me passed
Tomorrow in the early morning
I will close my door
In the nose of the dead years
I will go down these paths
I will beg for my life
On the roads of France
Of Brittany and Provence
And I will say to people
Refuse to obey
Refuse to do it
Don't go to war
Refuse to leave
If you must give your blood
Go to give yours
You are a good apostle
Mr President
If you chase me
Tell your policemen
That I am not armed
And that they can shoot