| My story is much too sad to be told
|
| But practic’lly ev’rything
|
| 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
|
| 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 get a kick from cocaine
|
| I’m sure that if I took even one sniff
|
| That would bore me terrific’lly too
|
| Yet I get a kick out of you
|
| I get a kick ev’ry time I see
|
| You standing there before me
|
| I get a kick tho' it’s clear to me
|
| You obviously don’t adore me
|
| I get no kick in a plane
|
| Flying too high with some guy in the sky
|
| Is my idea of nothing to do
|
| Yet I get a kick out of you
|
| I get a kick ev’ry time I see
|
| You standing there before me
|
| I get a kick tho' it’s clear to me
|
| You obviously don’t adore me
|
| I get no kick in a plane
|
| Flying too high with some guy in the sky
|
| Is my idea of nothing to do
|
| Yet I get a. |
| .
|
| I get a. |
| .
|
| I get a kick out of you |