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 am starry eyed and vaguely discontented

Like a nightingale without a song to sing
O 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've never head
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 $%&^ in a melancholy way

That it might as well be spring
It might as well be
Spring