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I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm |
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I'm as jumpy as puppet on a string |
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I'd say that i had spring fever |
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But i know it isn't spring |
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I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented |
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Like a nightingale without a song to sing |
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O why should i have spring fever |
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When it isn't even spring |
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I keep i were someone else |
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Walking down a strange new street |
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And hearing words that i've never head |
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From a girl i've yet to meet |
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I'm as busy as spider spinning daydreams |
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Spinning spinning daydreams |
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I'm as giggy as a baby on a swing |
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I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud |
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Or a robin on the wing |
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But i feel so gay in a melancholy way |
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That it might as well be spring |
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It might as |
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Well be |
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Spring |
