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
Then 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 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
Some they may go for cocaine
I'm sure that if I took even one sniff
It 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 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
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