Músicas de Rodgers e Hammerstein, parte 01.

It Might as Well be Spring 

by Richard Rodgers & Oscar Hammerstein (State Fair, 1945)

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.