It Might as Well Be Spring

Im as restless as a willow in a windstorm
Im as jumpy as a puppet on a string
Id say that I had spring fever
But I know it isnt spring
I am starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
Oh, why should I have spring fever
When it isnt even spring?
I keep wishing I were somewhere else
Walking down a strange new street
Hearing words that I have never heard
From a girl Ive yet to meet
Im as busy as a spider spinning daydreams
Im as giddy as a baby on a swing
I havent 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