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 as starry eyed

And gravely discontented

Like a nightingale

Without a song to sing

Oh why should

I have spring fever

When I know it isn't even spring

I keep wishing I were somewhere else

Walking down a strange new street

Hearing words that I have never never heard

From a man I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams

I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing

I havent seen a crocus or a rosebud

Or a Robin or a bluebird 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 strange new street

Listening words that I have never

Never never never heard

From a man I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams

I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing

I havent seen a crocus or a rosebud

Or a Robin or on the wing

But I do feel so gay in a melancholy way

That it might as well be spring

It might as well be spring

Be spring

It might as well be spring