They want to be heard. They must be heard. They will not be denied.
Listen; do you hear them? Their plaintive cries, their emotive snarls? The rhythm of their dance as they drag you into their circle, whether you want it or not?
The song does not come from just one place. They patrol the halls and streets, ensuring everyone can hear, understand, and enjoy.
It is not a song for the daylight hours. It is best experienced in the slowly brightening hours of the pre-dawn. While the singers wander, the listeners are best ensconced in their beds, preferably dreaming of something else.
I hate cats.
Insomniac Nightmares 
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