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 and weep
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 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 That you obviously don't adore me
I get no kick in a plane Flying too high with some girl in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do Yet I get a kick
I get a kick out of I get a kick out of
you