It Might As Well Be Spring

The things I used to like, I dont like any more

I want a lot of other things Ive never had before

Its just like my mamma says, I sit around and mourn

Pretending that I am so wonderful and knowing Im adored

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

Im as starry eyed and gravely 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 I have never never heard

From a man Ive yet to meet

Im as busy as a spider spinning daydreams

Im as giddy as a baby on a swing

I haven't 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, might as well be

It might as well be spring