It Might as Well Be Spring (feat. Astrud Gilberto) [Live at Café Au Go-Go, 1964]

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.