My name is Tesonna.
From my cloud,
I see the crowd.

Covered by guilt and shame
from those hoping for a promised land.
And drowned by their gifts;
the heavy lord that I am is worshiped;
while tears are on the verge of arising on my cheeks.

The Promised Land.
A far-away freedom,
a near-away sadness.

Embellished by gold and blood,
am I the best or the worst of those who created me?

Where is my dream?
Can I seek a star?

Where is my God?
Can I seek the light?

My name is Tesonna.
And sitting on this cloud,
I am waiting for this crowd
to set me free.