The Murmur in the Mural (Pig Latin Deep Dive) | Sindy
The Murmur in the Mural (Pig Latin Deep Dive) | Sindy In this video, gothic musician Sindy takes a deep dive into her Pig Latin song The Mu
In this video, gothic musician Sindy takes a deep dive into her Pig Latin song The Murmur in the Mural, breaking down the creative method behind the lyrics. Rather than converting every word, Sindy explains how she selectively used Pig Latin for rhythm, rhyme, mood, and storytelling — turning a childhood language into something eerie and intentional.
Starting from the top of the song and working her way down, Sindy discusses why certain words were transformed, why others were left untouched, and how sound choices helped shape the song’s unsettling atmosphere. This video offers fans an inside look at how language, memory, and music blend together in The Murmur in the Mural — and why Pig Latin can feel less like a joke and more like a spell.
Perfect for fans of gothic music, experimental songwriting, and creative lyric techniques.
SCRIPT:
Hey everyone. I get a lot of messages from fans telling me how much they enjoy my Pig Latin song “The Murmur in the Mural,” and especially how the Pig Latin feels… different. Not like every word was converted, but like it was used on purpose.
I’ve done a couple short videos explaining the general idea, but for this one I want to go a little deeper and actually walk through the lyrics from the top and explain how I decided what to convert, what to leave alone, and why.
Quick thing before we start: on the music video page, you’ll see both the plain English version and the Pig Latin version. For this video, I’m talking about the Pig Latin lyrics, and how they evolved from the English.
The song opens very grounded:
“This room is quieter than breath,”
I wanted the very first line to feel normal. Calm. Familiar.
Then the next line shifts just slightly:
“A cradle for the things I eft-lay.”
In English, that line ends with left. I only converted that one word because it’s the emotional hinge. And the -lay sound adds this soft, almost nursery-rhyme feeling — which matters, because childhood memory is already creeping in.
From there, I start converting words in clusters that sound good together, not everything:
“Painted ields-fay that never ade-fay, Soft inders-remay childhood ade-may.”
Those repeated -ay endings aren’t about correctness — they’re about rhythm. I wanted the mural to feel like it’s quietly humming.
As the verse continues, I mostly convert physical and sensory words:
“I touch the all-way to eel-fay it stay, But something urs-stay beneath the ay-clay.”
Wall. Feel. Stirs. Clay. Those are the words that carry touch and motion, so those are the ones that get twisted.
Then the song crosses into something more intentional:
“A hisper-way urls-cay along the ain-gray, A urmur-may calling out my ame-nay.”
At this point, Pig Latin stops feeling playful and starts feeling like an incantation. The words are still recognizable — just slightly wrong — which is exactly where the story is heading.
In the pre-chorus, I focus on language itself:
“I say the ords-way I used to ow-knay, Just little ounds-say from ong-lay ago…”
Words. Know. Sounds. Those are converted because the song is about language changing things. I leave the small structural words alone so you can still follow the thought without getting lost.
The chorus is where I lock in consistency:
“There’s a urmur-may in the ural-may, Essing-pray from the ainted-pay orld-way.”
Murmur and mural are always converted the same way. That’s deliberate — they’re the spell words. They have to hit the ear the same every time, like a chant.
Then I convert action words:
“Something ushes-pay on the all-way, Like it ants-way to eak-bray the all-fay.”
Pushes. Wants. Break. Fall. Those words move the scene forward, so the Pig Latin carries the motion.
Verse two is where innocence starts turning:
“The igs-pay that ile-smay in simple okes-stray Now atch-way me like they’re in on okes-jay.”
I wanted this section to sound playful on the surface. Pigs. Smiles. Jokes. But the language is bent just enough that it starts to feel wrong — like the mural is watching back.
Then this line sums up the whole tone of the song:
“It’s innocence—but ightly-say ong-wray, A ullaby-lay that ost-lay its ong-say.”
That’s the method in one sentence: familiar… but tilted.
In the bridge, I let the Pig Latin take over more:
“Maybe it’s emory-may eaking-bray through, Or something eal-ray I ever-nay ew-knay.”
This is where the language itself starts feeling unstable, because the character is unsure whether this is memory, imagination, or something else entirely.
By the end of the bridge:
“I ear-hay the ood-way egin-bay to end-bay…”
The words aren’t just describing change — they sound like things bending.
In the final chorus and outro, the conversions become consequences:
“If I eathe-bray those ounds-say once ore-may…”
Breathe. Sounds. More. Those are trigger words. Saying them again feels dangerous.
And the song closes by circling back to the beginning:
“Should’ve eft-lay those ords-way alone— Now the ural-may ants-way a ome-hay.”
That one early choice — converting a single word — turns out to be the thing that invited everything else in.
So that’s the real approach behind the song. Pig Latin wasn’t used to translate — it was used to shape rhythm, mood, and meaning, and to slowly turn a childhood language into something that feels like a spell.
Watch the music video for Sindy's Pig Latin Classic The Murmur In The Mural.
Showcasing The Music and Images of Beautiful Goth Girl and Singer Sindy
