IL SENSO DELL'ODIO - Unplugged Lyrics in English Salmo

Below, I translated the lyrics of the song IL SENSO DELL'ODIO - Unplugged by Salmo from Italian to English.
These lyrics have verified word for word translations. Click any lyric word to see the translation and hear the pronunciation!
One, two'
One, two, three, four
Yao, check
Sometimes I feel even worse, but what are you talking about?
I speak to myself, should I be worried?
I'm afraid of waking up tomorrow, conscious
And know that there is no following
Perhaps
If you only knew how many races I've done
And all these years of shoulda
I could, I had to, I wanted to, if it were
Or if maybe I had a normal face
Without problems for socializing
The way I live is an instinctive fact
I write verses for the badly taken
I love the sense of hate, corroded
Like someone who knows they will never be famous
But what do you mean by famous?
In Italy it is understood as how much you sell yourself
The principle of who plays
It's staying parallel to the line of what works
We may be different
It's enough for me to see you under the stage singing my verses
I have water in my throat
At school I slept until the last hour
I have never opened my eyes since
I dreamed of going to university after graduation
Perhaps
If you only knew how many races I've done
And if hate were a brand I would definitely be an endorser
I would see my name on the bags
I hate people who take everything seriously
Too seriously, too seriously
And they look at you strangely
Just because I can change the track on your stereo
The principle of those who play is to stay in parallel
To the line of what works
We may be different
It's enough for me to see you under the stage singing my verses
All we have left is hatred when it's all over
You will still find me here, where the sense perceives it, hey
All we have left is hate, he dictates and I write
As long as you feel the sense of hate you can say you are alive
All we have left is hate, all we have left is hate
All we have left is, all we have left is hate, all we have left is hate
I would like to go back as John Titor
Who?
Maybe you've never heard of it
However, I was saying, I would like to go back in time
Leave everything as it was
Losing myself as an example, feeling impious
Reliving everything in the same way
Everything you do has its value
Memories are like the mafia
Repenting is a dishonor
I have the coldest heart in Asia
I never get home before three
I never wake up before three
I work at the bar and like everyone else, like everyone else, I dream of being a rock star
I hate my city like half the people can feel it
The other half share the meaning but can't find a way to say it, hey
For those who don't understand it, you will find me where the meaning perceives it
All we have left is hate, all we have left is hate
All we have left is, all we have left is hate, all we have left is hate
All we have left is hatred when it's all over
You will still find me here, where the sense perceives it, hey
All you have left is hate, he dictates and I write
As long as you feel the sense of hate you can say you are alive
Yes, boom
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Lyrics © Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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endorserendorser

Endorser is an English loanword used in Italian, referring to someone who publicly supports or promotes a product, brand, or idea.

In the song, Salmo uses it in a provocative and ironic way: "E se l'odio fosse una marca farei sicuramente l'endorser" (And if hate were a brand, I would definitely be the endorser). This line is striking because it personifies hate as a marketable product, and the artist positions himself as its promoter, highlighting a cynical yet compelling perspective on modern society and his own artistic identity.

"Il Senso Dell'Odio" is Salmo looking back at a life full of "should have, could have, wanted to" and turning that regret into fuel instead of letting it sit. He talks about the fear of waking up with no clear "next," the nights he never came home before three, and the version of himself that skipped school and dreamed, half seriously, of a normal university life instead.

The title line is the key: he says he "loves the sense of hate, corroded," almost proud that he'll never be conventionally famous, because in Italy fame just means how much you sell, and that's not the game he's playing. He'd rather write.

The chorus turns that bitterness into something almost hopeful. "All that's left is hate when everything ends, you'll still find me here" isn't despair, it's defiance: as long as you can still feel something that sharp, you know you're alive. He wishes he could rewind time like the internet legend John Titor, just to live it all the same way again, mistakes included.

By the end he widens the lens to his whole city: half the people around him feel exactly what he feels, but nobody can put it into words. Writing, for him, is what finally does.

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