Pierre de Maere’s “Menteur” feels like a late-night confession booth set to music. The Belgian singer opens his heart to his mother, admitting that he lies, cheats a little, and sinks into fantasies that pain them both. Behind the catchy melody is a tug-of-war between reality and daydreams: he wants to stay realistic, but dazzling visions of fame keep circling back stronger than before. Every time he falls, Mom is there with calm advice—life is what it is, there is no use in endless lamenting—then offers him one more slow, reassuring dance.
At its core, the song is a love letter wrapped in guilt and hope. Pierre pictures himself as a future “superstar” who might break his own dreams and return home bruised. Even then, he imagines the same warm embrace and gentle guidance. “Menteur” captures the bittersweet loop of growing up: chasing big ambitions, stumbling over self-deception, yet always craving the safety of a parent’s arms. It is tender, playful, and a little tragic—an anthem for anyone who has ever promised the world, doubted themselves, and still believed that home would welcome them back.