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letra de it might as well be spring - rosemary clooney

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the things i used to like, i don’t like any more,
i want a lot of other things i’ve never had before,
it’s just like my mamma says, i sit around and mourn
pretending that i am so wonderful and knowing i’m adored

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 baby on a swing,
i haven’t 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

- rosemary clooney

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