Текст песни It Might As Well Be Spring

The things I used to like, I dont like any more, I want a lot of other things Ive never had before, Its just like my mamma says, I sit around and mourn Pretending that I am so wonderful and knowing Im adored Im as restless as a willow in a windstorm, Im as jumpy as a puppet on a string, Id say that I had spring fever, But I know it isnt spring. Im as starry eyed and gravely discontented, Like a nightingale without a song to sing. Oh, why should I have spring fever, When it isnt 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 Ive yet to meet. Im as busy as a spider spinning daydreams, Im as giddy as a baby on a swing, I havent seen a crocus or a rosebud, Or a robin or a bluebird on the wing, But I feel so gay in a melancholy way, That it might as well be spring, It might as well be, might as well be, It might as well be spring.