My story is much too sad to be told,
But practically everything
Leaves me totally cold.
The only exception i know is the freezer case,
When i’m out on a quiet grocery shopping spree,
Fighting vainly the old ennui
And i suddenly turn and see,
Your fabulous box in the space.
I get no kick from Champagne
Mere alchohol doesn’t thrill me at all
So tell me why should it be true
That i get a kick out of you
Some, they may go for cocaine
I’m sure that if i took even one sniff
It would bore me terrifically too
Yet i get a kick out of you
I get a kick every time
I see you sitting there before me
I get a kick when your package through the clear glass door I see
Even though it’s obvious you can’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

With apologies to Cole Porter