I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm
I'm as jumpy as puppet on a string
I'd say that i had spring fever
But i know it isn't spring
I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
O why should i have spring fever
When it isn't even spring
I keep wishing i were someone else
Walking down a strange new street
And hearing words that i've never head
From a girl i've yet to meet
I'm as busy as spider spinning daydreams
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing
But i feel so gay in a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
It might as
Well be spring
