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 swingin' 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 pop-type refrain
I'm sure that if I heard even one riff
That would bore me terrifically, too
Yet I get a kick out of you

I get a kick every time I see
You're standing there before me
I get a kick though it's clear to see
You obviously don't 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 out of you
I get a kick every time I hear
You swingin' 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 gal in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do
Yet I get a kick out of you

I get my kick out of you
I get my kicks when your eyes play those tricks
And I know our romance isn't through
Yes, I get my kicks, get my kicks
Get my kicks out of you