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
oh why should I have
spring fever
When it isn't
even spring?
I keep wishing I were
somewhere else
walking down a
strange new street
Hearing words that
I have 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 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
And that's why
I feel this way
and yet I know
it's not spring today
But it might as well
be spring
But... ooh...
oooh.....