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 Im 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, they may go for 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 every time I see you Standing there before me I get a kick though it's clear to see You obviously don't adore me I get no kick in a plane Flyin' too high with some gal in the sky is my idea of nothing to do Yet I get a kick You give me a boot I get a kick out of you