Most revellers have long since fled,
And I, alone, am out of bed,
Walking the streets so still and dead,
The night belongs to cats.
See lordly Toms on high survey,
Nocturnal realms where they hold sway,
While others go in search of prey,
The night belongs to cats.
As mournful yowls fragment the night,
And deep in shadow, eyes shine bright,
I wander where I have no right,
This night belongs to cats.
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