My story is much too sad
To be told
Ah 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 ennui
Then I suddenly turn and see
Your fabulous face
I get no kick from champagne
Mere alcohol it
Doesn't move me at all
Tell me why
Should it be true
I get a kick out of you
Some like the perfume
From Spain
I'm sure that if
I took even one sniff
It would bore me
Terrifically too
However I do 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 see
That you obviously
You do not adore me
Some get a kick in a plane
Flying too high
With some chick 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 see
That you obviously
You do not adore me
I get no kick in a plane
Flying too high
With some chick in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do
Yet I get a kick
You give me a boot
I get a kick
Out of you