That would be Mr. T.
I am waiting for T and sympathy – my friend told me it is at the intersection, where that one road ends.
Sorry, but the road goes ever on and on.
And I smile when I feel like dying, on and on, on and on, on and on.
Call him whatever you want, write it how you like it. You will wait for Godott forever.
Call him anything except late for supper.
You can call me Ray, or you can call me Jay, or you can call me Johnny, or you can call me Sonny, or you can call me Junie, or you can call me Junior; now you can call me Ray J, or you can call me RJ, or you can call me RJJ, or you can call me RJJ Jr., but you doesn’t hasta call me Johnson.
I’ve done it again…killed a thread. And I did it with what I thought was a funny pun. Guess not.
Cue the sad trombone.
I can call you Betty, and Betty when you call me you can call me Al. Call me Al.
You call me a dog
That’s fair enough
I’ll call you beautiful
If I call at all
Call hasta la pizza prosciutto pepperoni and call it a day.
Call me! Together we can share whine, call me.
I have played Godot in many thousands of productions of the play around the world. As a matter of fact, I’m (not) appearing in six different productions as I write this.
Just to clarify, if clarification is needed, why I speak and write of Godott: it is my own idiosyncratic mix of God (English), Gott (German) and Godot (the one you wait forever for, if he exists* at all). I know it is not understandable without explanation, but I am fine with that.
* Spoiler: He does not. That is my point.
At this moment I am watching video of a tarantula walking on water.
Walking on sunshine.
Too hot.
Walking on moonlight?
I don’t think that is possible.
Heard it on the radio.
I heard that, it was on the Grapevine & X show.