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 
But I know it isn't even 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 I know it isn't even 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 have 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 [bad word] in a melancholy way 
That it might as well be spring 
Yes it might, might as well be spring 
Ooh, I keep wishing I were somewhere else 
Walking down a strange new street 
Hearing words that I have never never heard 
From a man I have 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 [bad word] in a melancholy way 
That it might as well be spring 
Yes it might, might as well be spring