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.
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 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 somewhere else,
Walking down a strange 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,
It might as well be spring.
In our air-conditioned, patent leather farmhouse,
On our ultra-modern, scientific farm,
We'll live in a stream-lined heaven,
And we'll waste no time on charm!
No geraniums to clutter our veranda,
Nor single little sentimental things,
No virginia creepers, nothing useless !
It Might As Well Be Spring Lyrics performed by Bernadette Peters are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that It Might As Well Be Spring Lyrics performed by Bernadette Peters is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD