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 enui

And I suddenly turn and see

Your fabulous face

I get no kick from Champagne

Mere alchohol 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 cocain

I'm sure that if I took even one sniff

That 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 its 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