My story is much too sad to be told But practically everything leaves me totally cold The only exception I know is a case When I'm out on a quiet spree Fighting vainly the old ennui Then I suddenly turn and see Your fabulous face I get no kick from champagne Mere alcohol doesn't move me at all So tell me why should it be true That I get a kick out of you I get no kick from 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 everytime 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 But I get a kick out of you