My story is much too sad to be told But practically ev'rything 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 terrific'ly too Yet I get a kick out of you
I get a kick ev'ry time I see You're 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/guy in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do But I get a kick out of you