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 envy 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 It would bore me terrificly 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 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