| Verse:
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| My story is much to sad to be told
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| But practically everything 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, fighting vainly the old ennui
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| Then I suddenly turn and see
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| Your fabulous face
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| Chorus:
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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 like the perfume from Spain
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| I’m sure that if I took even one sniff
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| It would bore me terrifically too
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| But I get a kick out of you
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| (Some like the bop-type refrain)
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| (I’m sure that if, I heard even one riff)
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| (It would bore me terrifically too)
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| (But I get a kick out of you)
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| (Some they may go for cocaine)
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| (I’m sure that if, I took even one sniff)
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| (It would bore me terrifically too)
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| (But I get a kick out of you)
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| 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
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| Flying too high with some gal in the sky
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| Is my idea of nothing to do But I get a kick out of you |