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My story is much too sad to be told |
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But practically ev'rything leaves me totally cold |
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The only exception I know is the case |
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When I'm out on a quiet spree |
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Fighting vainly the old ennui |
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And I suddenly turn and see |
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Your fabulous face.... |
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I get no kick from champagne |
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Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all |
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So tell me why should it be true |
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That I get a kick out of you |
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Some get a kick from cocaine |
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I'm sure that if I took even one sniff |
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That would bore me terrific'ly too |
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Yet I get a kick out of you |
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I get a kick ev'ry time I see |
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You're standing there before me |
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I get a kick though it's clear to see |
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You obviously do not adore me |
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I get no kick in a plane |
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Flying too high with some gal/guy in the sky |
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Is my idea of nothing to do |
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But I get a kick out of you |
