My story is much too 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 they may go for cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff It would bore me terrifically too And 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 And I get a kick, you give me a boot And I get a kick out of you