My story is much to 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 get a kick from cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff That would bore me terrifically too But 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 me, you obviously don't adore me I get no kick in a plane, flying too high with some guy in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do, 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 me, you obviously don't adore me I get no kick in a plane, flying too high with some guy in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do, yet I get a kick out of you I get a kick out of you