(1998 London Cast Recording)
My story is much to sad to be told,
But practically 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 get a kick from cocaine,
I'm sure that if I took even one sniff
That would bore me terrific'ly too
Yet I get a kick out of you.
I get kick ev'ry 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 to high with some guy in the sky
Is my idea of nothing to do,
Yet I get a kick out of you.
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