Pig Latin usually gets treated like a joke. Something you learn as a kid, use to hide secrets, then forget about. But when I decided to write The Murmur in the Mural, I realized pretty quickly that Pig Latin can be a lot more interesting than people give it credit for — especially when you stop treating it like a rulebook and start treating it like a sound.

This isn’t a lesson in “perfect” Pig Latin. It’s just how I approached it while turning it into lyrics that still had mood, rhythm, and emotional weight.

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First: You Don’t Have to Convert Every Word

This was the most important decision.

If you turn every single word into Pig Latin, the result is technically correct — and musically awful. The song becomes cluttered, hard to follow, and loses its natural flow.

So I didn’t do that.

I focused on:

• Nouns
• Verbs
• Descriptive words

And I often left:

• Articles (“the,” “a”)
• Prepositions
• Small connective words unchanged.

That keeps the listener oriented. Your ear still recognizes the structure of the sentence, even when the language is twisted.

Pig Latin works best when it suggests confusion, not when it completely buries meaning.

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Sound Matters More Than Rules

Pig Latin has rules, but songs have rhythm — and rhythm wins.

When I was converting lines, I paid more attention to:

• Vowel sounds
• Where syllables land in the melody
• Whether the word felt singable

If a technically correct Pig Latin conversion sounded clunky, I adjusted it. Sometimes that meant bending the rule slightly so the phrase would still breathe.

If it doesn’t sing well, it doesn’t belong.

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Write in English First. Always.

The song was written entirely in English first.

That matters.

If you try to write directly in Pig Latin, you’ll end up writing about Pig Latin instead of writing a song. By starting in English, the lyrics already had:

• Imagery
• Emotion
• Narrative flow

Pig Latin became a filter applied afterward — not the foundation itself.

Think of it like distortion on a guitar. You don’t build the song out of noise. You add the noise once the song exists.

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Pig Latin Changes Rhythm in Interesting Ways

One thing I didn’t expect: Pig Latin forces you to rethink phrasing.

Words get longer. Stresses move. Familiar lines suddenly feel off-balance. That can be frustrating — or it can be useful.

In The Murmur in the Mural, that instability actually helped. The song is about childhood, memory, and something harmless slowly turning wrong. Pig Latin naturally introduces that unease.

The language doesn’t sit still. Neither does the song.

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You Don’t Have to Decode Everything

Some people understand Pig Latin instantly. Some don’t. I didn’t want either group to feel locked out.

If you catch every word — great.
If you don’t — the mood still works.

That was intentional.

Pig Latin becomes texture as much as language. It lets sound lead meaning instead of the other way around.

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Final Thought

Pig Latin isn’t just a joke language. It’s a way of reshaping familiar ideas just enough to make them feel strange again. Used carefully, it can add rhythm, tension, and even emotion — not by hiding meaning, but by making you approach it differently.

That’s how The Murmur in the Mural came together. Not as a gimmick, but as a small experiment in what happens when you let sound and memory do some of the talking.

Sometimes saying things the “wrong” way is the only way to hear them clearly.

A First Pig Latin Lesson

If you want to see Pig Latin used in context, here’s a simple place to start. Below are the lyrics from The Murmur in the Mural, shown first in plain English and then in Pig Latin.

You don’t need to decode every word to enjoy it. Read through, notice how the sounds change, and how some words are left untouched to keep the rhythm intact.

Consider it your first small lesson in Pig Latin — not from a rulebook, but from a song. Enjoy.

LYRICS PLAIN ENGLISH

[Verse 1]
This room is quieter than breath,
A cradle for the things I left.
Painted fields that never fade,
Soft reminders childhood made.
I touch the wall to feel it stay,
But something stirs beneath the clay.
A whisper curls along the grain—
A murmur calling out my name.

[Pre-Chorus]
I say the words I used to know,
Just little sounds from long ago…
But in the silence of this room,
They bloom into another truth.

[Chorus]
There’s a murmur in the mural,
Pressing from the painted world.
Something pushes on the wall,
Like it wants to break the fall.
I don’t know if it remembers me,
Or if I woke what shouldn’t be—
But every line begins to crawl…
And something moves inside the wall.

[Verse 2]
The sunny sky has turned to gray,
Clouds gathering over fields of hay.
The pigs that smile in simple strokes
Now watch me like they’re in on jokes.
Their eyes are darker than before,
Their pen is cracking at the floor.
It’s innocence—but slightly wrong,
A lullaby that lost its song.

[Pre-Chorus 2]
I speak the sounds again, unsure,
A secret language from before…
The room leans in to hear me say
The letters that won’t fade away.

[Chorus]
There’s a murmur in the mural,
Pressing from the painted world.
Something pushing on the wall,
Like it wants to break the fall.
I don’t know if it remembers me,
Or if I woke what shouldn’t be—
But every line begins to crawl…
And something moves inside the wall.

[Bridge]
Maybe it’s memory breaking through,
Or something real I never knew.
Maybe these are spirits made
From every word I ever played.
I hear the wood begin to bend—
I shouldn’t speak those words again.
But still they rise behind my teeth,
And pull the paint like living sheets.

[Final Chorus]
There’s a murmur in the mural,
Pressing from the painted world.
If I breathe those sounds once more,
Will they break through from the floor?
I don’t know if they’re part of me,
Or shadows begging to be free—
But something answers when I call…
And something lives inside the wall.

[Outro]
Just a murmur… just a sound…
Childhood calling from the ground.
Should’ve left those words alone—
Now the mural wants a home.

PIG LATIN LYRICS:

[Verse 1]
This room is quieter than breath,
A cradle for the things I eft-lay.
Painted ields-fay that never ade-fay,
Soft inders-remay childhood ade-may.
I touch the all-way to eel-fay it stay,
But something urs-stay beneath the ay-clay.
A hisper-way urls-cay along the ain-gray—
A urmur-may calling out my ame-nay.

[Pre-Chorus]
I say the ords-way I used to ow-knay,
Just little ounds-say from ong-lay ago…
But in the silence of this oom-ray,
They oom-blay into another uth-tray.

[Chorus]
There’s a urmur-may in the ural-may,
Essing-pray from the ainted-pay orld-way.
Something ushes-pay on the all-way,
Like it ants-way to eak-bray the all-fay.
I don’t ow-knay if it emembers-ray me,
Or if I okeway what shouldn’t be—
But every ine-lay egins-bay to awl-cray…
And something oves-may inside the all-way.

[Verse 2]
The unny-say y-skay has urned-tay to ay-gray,
Ouds-clay athering-gay over ields-fay of ay-hay.
The igs-pay that ile-smay in simple okes-stray
Now atch-way me like they’re in on okes-jay.
Their eyes are arker-day than efore-bay,
Their en-pay is acking-cray at the oor-flay.
It’s innocence—but ightly-say ong-wray,
A ullaby-lay that ost-lay its ong-say.

[Pre-Chorus 2]
I eak-spay the ounds-say again, unsure,
A ecret-say anguage-lay from efore-bay…
The oom-ray eens-lay in to ear-hay me ay-say
The etters-lay that won’t ade-fay away.

[Chorus]
There’s a urmur-may in the ural-may,
Essing-pray from the ainted-pay orld-way.
Something ushing-pay on the all-way,
Like it ants-way to eak-bray the all-fay.
I don’t ow-knay if it emembers-ray me,
Or if I okeway what shouldn’t be—
But every ine-lay egins-bay to awl-cray…
And something oves-may inside the all-way.

[Bridge]
Maybe it’s emory-may eaking-bray through,
Or something eal-ray I ever-nay ew-knay.
Maybe these are irits-spay ade-may
From every ord-way I ever ayed-play.
I ear-hay the ood-way egin-bay to end-bay—
I shouldn’t eak-spay those ords-way again.
But still they ise-ray behind my eeth-tay,
And ull-pay the aint-pay like iving-lay eets-shay.

[Final Chorus]
There’s a urmur-may in the ural-may,
Essing-pray from the ainted-pay orld-way.
If I eathe-bray those ounds-say once ore-may,
Will they eak-bray through from the oor-flay?
I don’t ow-knay if they’re art-pay of me,
Or adows-shay egging-bay to be ee-fray—
But something answers when I all-cay…
And something ives-lay inside the all-way.

[Outro]
Just a urmur-may… just a ound-say…
Childhood alling-cay from the ound-gray.
Should’ve eft-lay those ords-way alone—
Now the ural-may ants-way a ome-hay.