It might as well be spring

The things I used to like
I don't like anymore
I want a lot of other things
I never had before
It's just like mother says
I sit around and mope
Pretending I'm wonderful
And knowing I'm a dope

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
When I know it isn't spring

I am starry-eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
Oh why should I have spring fever
When 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 man I've yet to meet

I'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreams
I'm as jumpy 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

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

Ah yes, it might as well be spring