Mon fils est parti au djihad [English translation]

He was a kid like any other,

and it's so hard to talk about it.

I know in the end it's all my fault,

how could I be so blind?

I pore over every word he said,

and what he managed to hide from me:

the long hours spent on his PC,

that's when they went for him.

And I didn't see a thing, it makes me sick.

My son left for the Jihad

And I didn't see a thing, it makes me sick.

My son left for the Jihad

He was just like any other teen:

rather nice and quiet.

He would never fall foul of anyone,

he was always kicking a ball.

He dreamt of being a caseworker,

thar's before he got brainwashed

by their predatory speeches

prowling for lost lambs.

It's with a brain like marmelade

that my son left for the Jihad

It's with a brain like marmelade

that my son left for the Jihad

He was a quite ordinary kid

who grew up near a small town.

And then the radical conversion

and the new name that follows.

I don't wish that to any mother,

it's a one way ticket to hell.

I can't believe he did this,

I can't even make his undone bed.

Thinking he'd help sick children,

my son left for the Jihad

Thinking he'd help sick children,

my son left for the Jihad

He was just old enough for a first smoke

and all my life ground to a halt

when I discovered this note:

"Mom, don't you worry,

I'm off to help young Syrians.

I'll write soon, promise

I love you so much"

And then nothing, not a word.

Radio silence.

I recall crying at the police station

my son left for the Jihad

I recall crying at the police station

my son left for the Jihad

Damnit, he was just a kid.

I don't want to look at this picture

(of him) with a rifle in his hands.

That's not him, not my Pete

He couldn't stand the sight of blood

He loved litterature

He killed innocent people

They make a kamikaze out of him.

He blew himself up in Baghdad

My son died for the Jihad

He blew himself up in Baghdad

My son died for the Jihad