Verse 1 Thirty years beside the willow tree, Where the graves were carved with memories. The swamp moved on, the seasons changed, But to the little frog, nothing felt the same. Every morning he'd wake alone, Staring at the names cut into stone. Never raced and never played, Just watched the sunlight slowly fade. Chorus Ribbit, ribbit, not a song, Thirty years is far too long. The world kept turning endlessly, But not for the little froggy. Ribbit, ribbit, cold and gray, All the colors washed away. The swamp was full of life and light, But his heart stayed trapped in night. Verse 2 The dragonflies still filled the sky, The river still kept rolling by. The turtles told him, "Come outside," But he never left his friend's graveside. Every memory played again, Every laugh, every old-time friend. A thousand times he'd ask himself why, And never found a good reply. Chorus Ribbit, ribbit, not a song, Thirty years is far too long. The world kept turning endlessly, But not for the little froggy. Bridge Then one dark evening through the reeds, Came familiar voices through the trees. The alligators stepped from the fog, And the swamp fell silent in shock. They said, "It was only a prank all along." Then his old friends came running from beyond. They laughed and smiled and called his name, But nothing inside him felt the same. Verse 3 "Come race with us!" his best friend cried. "Come play again by the riverside!" But thirty years cannot disappear, And neither can thirty years of tears. The frog just stared into the night, At faces he once held so tight. They wanted things to be like before, But he wasn't that frog anymore. Final Chorus Ribbit, ribbit, hear the truth, You can't give back a stolen youth. The years were real, the pain was too, No matter what they tried to do. Ribbit, ribbit, through the rain, Some wounds don't vanish all the same. The swamp was bright, the stars above, But trust was gone where there was love. Outro The friends stood still beside the stream, Realizing what those years had been. The little frog turned toward the sky, Not angry, not shouting, not asking why. The swamp sang on as it always would, And maybe one day he'd find some good. But on that night, beneath the moon's glow, The unhappy little froggy wasn't ready to let go.
