My story is much too sad to be told But practically everything leaves me totally cold The only exception I know is the case When I'm out on a quiet spree Fighting vainly the old ennui And I suddenly turn and see your fabulous face I get no kick from champagne Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me, at all So tell me, why should it be true That I get a kick out of you? Some, they may go for cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me terrifically, too Yet I get a kick out of you I get a kick every time I see you standing there before me I get a kick, though it's clear to see you obviously do not adore me I get no kick in a plane Flying too high with some gal in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do Yet I get a kick Mmm, you give me a boot I get a kick out of you [2 alternates to the verse that mentions cocaine] Some like the perfume from Spain I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me terrifically, too But I get a kick out of you Some like the bop-type refrain I'm sure that if I heard even one riff It would bore me terrifically, too But I get a kick out of you