I'm as restless as a willow in a windstormnI'm as jumpy as a puppet on a stringnI'd say that I had spring fevernBut I know it isn't even springnnI'm as starry eyed and gravely discontentednLike a nightingale without a song to singnOh, why should I have spring fevernWhen I know it isn't even spring?nnI keep wishing I were somewhere elsenWalking down a strange new streetnHearing words that I have never heardnFrom a man I have yet to meetnnI'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreamsnI'm as giddy as a baby on a swingnI haven't seen a crocus or a rosebudnOr a robin on the wingnBut I feel so gay in a melancholy waynThat it might as well be springnYes it might, might as well be springnnOoh, I keep wishing I were somewhere elsenWalking down a strange new streetnHearing words that I have never never heardnFrom a man I have yet to meetnnI'm as busy as a spider spinning daydreamsnI'm as giddy as a baby on a swingnI haven't seen a crocus or a rosebudnOr a robin on the wingnBut I feel so gay in a melancholy waynThat it might as well be springnYes it might, might as well be spring