(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.