Everything means nothing
Nothing means everything
That wretched little thing
It could be anything

You say that it is
"You sure it ain't his,
Or that noting's amiss?"
Asks the small kid, trying to tease

Offended I start to shriek
At that dirty little trick
That made me feel sick
You know I am meek

When the child came laughing
Holding my bottle, he is smirking
I came after him running and shouting
Will you stay still and stop moving, for this is vexing

And that bottle of wine
I'm sure it is mine
You little swine
It's mine

Coz everything means nothing
And nothing means everything
Words can be wrapped to be anything
It is not stopping, it has to keep moving
Leaving you confused, such a wretched little thing