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 had spring fever, But I know it isn't 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 it isn't even spring? I keep wishing I were somewhere else, Walking down a strange new street, Hearing words I have never 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 ba...