(Verse)
The things I used to like
I don't like anymore
I want a lot of other things
I’ve never had before
It's just like Mother says
I sit around and mope
Pretending I am wonderful
And knowing I'm a dope

(Chorus)
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 have spring fever
But I know it isn't spring

I am starry-eyed and vaguely 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 somewhеre else
Walking down a strangе new street
Hearing words that I have 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 baby on a swing
I haven’t seen a crocus or a rosebud
Or a robin on the wing
But I feel so gay
In a melancholy way
That it might as well be spring
Oh, it might as well be spring