I don't like anymore
I want a lot of other things
I've never had before
It's just like my mama says
I sit around and mope
Pretending that I'm so wonderful
And knowing I'm adored
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
Buy I know it isn't spring
I'm as starry eyed
And gravely 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 was somewhere else
Walking down
A strange new street
Hearing words
That I have never 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 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
It might as well be
It might as well be spring
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