Upon the river, black as glass, we watched the moonlight slowly pass. A wooden vessel, worn and wide, came drifting with the evening tide. The captain called, the bell replied, and countless little eyes appeared inside. A thousand croaking voices rose, beneath the lantern's amber glow. The river carried every sound, while mist concealed the banks around. And though the night appeared serene, the Unknown stirred beneath the green. A fiddle wept, the rhythm swayed, through waters where the moonlight played. For just one night, beneath the stars, we sailed beyond the woods' dark scars. Sail on, sail on through Frøgland's night, where crooked stars reflect their light. Let the river carry what we cannot say, and wash our weary fears away. Sail on, sail on, don't ask where, the river knows what waits out there. For every song the night has sung, may lead us somewhere far too young. The frogs sang louder, row by row, as silver currents pulled us slow. A hidden shore, a distant tune, a drifting shadow crossed the moon. Wirt watched the darkness on the bank, while Greg just smiled and never sank. For somewhere past the veil of trees, the river whispered, “You are free.” Perhaps the road was never ours, perhaps we're only passing stars. Yet if the river takes us far, we'll follow where the waters are. ROW! THROUGH THE BLACK! NO TURNING! NO LOOKING BACK! THE RIVER KNOWS! THE RIVER SEES! FRØGLAND! BENEATH THE TREES! Sail on, sail on through Frøgland's night, where crooked stars reflect their light. Though morning waits beyond the grey, the Unknown still calls us away. Sail on, sail on, through endless blue— the river carries me to you. And while the distant forests fade, we disappear... but are not saved. The river sleeps. The lantern sways. The frogs fall silent... through the haze.
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