My story is much to sad to be told   But practically everything leaves me totally cold   The only exception I know in this case   When I'm out in 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 thrill me at all   So tell me why should it be true   That I get a kick out of you      Some like the bop-type refrain   I'm sure that if, I heard even one riff   That would bore me terrifically too   But 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      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