Les Armes Que J'ai feels like reading the pages of a restless diary. Noé Preszow lists every flaw, refusal, and half-baked talent he carries in his backpack, then proudly calls them his weapons. From “cardboard rifles” to “twig knives,” he admits that what he has might look fragile, even ridiculous, yet it is precisely these homemade tools that keep him moving forward. The song is a rallying cry for anyone who has ever been told no: rather than trade authenticity for approval, Preszow sharpens his voice, leans into his impatience, and turns rejection into propulsion.
At the same time, the lyrics capture the tug-of-war between doubt and determination. One moment he is nostalgic for seaside nights and hard-rock marathons, the next he wonders if he should adopt “the enemy’s weapons” just to pay the rent. Still, every chorus circles back to the same mantra: J'ai les armes que j'ai—I have the weapons I have. The song celebrates courage on a human scale, reminding us that raw sincerity, stubborn memories, and a trembling heart can be more disarming than any polished arsenal. It is defiant, vulnerable, and ultimately uplifting, inviting listeners to stand tall with whatever makeshift armor they possess.