mp3 available at http://myspace.com/irishloc .

I'm taking syllables that I want to lose meaning
And painting them in white up on the ceiling
To swim around the air while I am sleeping
And in the morning they'll be a little bit blurrier.

And one morning I'll be squinting from my bed
To make out the letters overhead
But they've blurred into a cloud up there instead
And I'm inviting you to be white paint.

Where do you send things to
When your heart ain't got no room?
'Cos I'm set on banishing
My undying love
Unwavering favor of
All the wrong things.

Those syllables will sound against my skull
To echo and overlap until they're dull
To blend in with the hum inside the walls
And I'm inviting you to be white noise.

Where do you send things to
When your heart ain't got no room?
'Cos I'm set on banishing
My undying love
Unwavering favor of
All the wrong things.

And I'd like to know how difficult is it
To recreate established laws of physics
To dwell inside the confines of a minute
Where everything just drones, null and void
And in that instant you are just white noise. (less info)