Short Rations

You are keeping me on short rations Do you think it can put down my weight Or you could be short on elations Cause its either too early or late When I’m knocking at your window Every time it is shuttered for me You put down your head to a pillow I’m out there, by the oak tree You don’t let in your old faithful Just as the matter of fact And I think you do think it’s disgraceful But you just admit that is that It is useless to ask for a cause Could be an autumnal spleen Could be a rain, that falls Somewhere, outside the screen Could be a firework bursts Old Guy keeps getting his toll Could be anything that disturbs Could be me who waits for your call.