Once I was a sentimental thing; threw my heart away each spring. Now a spring romance hasn't got a chance. Promised my first dance to winter. All I've got to show's a splinter for my little fling. Spring this year has got me feeling like a horse that never left the post. I lie in my room staring up at the ceiling. Spring can really hang you up the most. Morning's kiss wakes trees and flowers, and to them I'd like to drink a toast. But I walk in the park just to k** the lonely hours. Spring can really hang you up the most. All afternoon the birds twitter-twitt. I know the tune. This is love, this is it. Heard it before and don't I know the score. And I've decided that spring is a bore. Love seems sure around the new year. Now it's April. Love is just a ghost. Spring arrived on time, only what became of you, dear? Spring can really hang you up the most. Spring can really hang you up the most. Love came my way. I thought it would last. We had our day, now it's all in the past. Spring came along, a season of song, full of sweet promise but something went wrong. Doctors once prescribed a tonic. Sulfur and mola**es was the dose. Didn't help one bit. My condition must be chronic. Spring can really hang you up the most. All alone, the party is over. Old man winter was a gracious host. But when you keep praying for snow to hide the clover, spring can really hang you up the most.