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Текст (слова) песни: Nina Simone - It Might As Well Be Spring

(1945) Richard Rodgers, Oscar Hammerstein II

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.

 

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