My story is much too sad to be told

But practically everything leaves me totally cold

The only exception I know is a 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 move me at all

So tell me why should it be true

That I get a kick out of you



I get no kick from 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 everytime 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