My story is much too sad to be told,
But practic'ly 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 like a bop-type refrain;
I'm sure that if I heard even one riff that would
Bore me terrific'y, too.
Yet I get a kick out of you.
I get a kick ev'ry time I see y7ou're standing there before me;
I get a kick, though it's clear to me
You obviously do not adore me.
I get no kick in a plane;
Flying too high with some gal in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do;
Yet I get a kick, you give me a boot,
Yes, I get a kick out of you.
