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
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