It might as well be spring

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 have spring fever
But I know it isn't spring

I'm as starry eyed and vaguely discontented
Like a nightingale without a song to sing
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 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
Oh, that 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
Oh, that it might as well be spring