It Might As Well Be Spring

I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm

I'm as jumpy as a puppet on a string

I'd say that I had spring fever

But I know it isn't spring

I’m starry eyed and vaguely discontented

Like a nightingale without a song to sing

I’d say that I have spring fever

But I know it isn't spring

I keep wishing I were somewhere else

Walking down a strange new street

Hearing words that I have never heard

From a girl I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams

I haven’t got a song that I may sing

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

I keep wishing I were somewhere else

Walking down a strange new street

Hearing words that I have never heard

From a girl I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams

I haven’t got a song that I may sing

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

Be spring

Be spring