Country Music

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Country Music

They met long before the fame — just two Oklahoma boys with the same dream and the same bad jokes. Wayman played ball, Toby played bars, and somehow they always found a way to laugh in the middle of the grind. Years later, when Toby heard that Wayman was gone, he didn’t call anyone. He didn’t post a thing. He just drove out to his barn, sat down with a guitar, and stared at the sky until the words showed up. He called it “Cryin’ for Me.” But he wasn’t crying for Wayman — he was crying for every moment they didn’t get to finish. For every story they planned to tell “one of these days.” When he finally sang it live, there were no fireworks, no long speech. Just his voice, steady and raw, carrying the weight of friendship. Because for Toby Keith, grief was never a show. It was a song — one that only the heart could finish

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Introduction

Some songs come from imagination. Others come straight from the heart. “Cryin’ for Me (Wayman’s Song)” belongs entirely to the second kind.

Toby Keith wrote it after the passing of his close friend, Wayman Tisdale—a former NBA player turned jazz musician, and one of the most joyful, radiant souls Keith ever knew. The two men shared not just friendship, but brotherhood. And when Wayman died in 2009, Toby didn’t sit down to write a hit; he sat down to grieve the only way he knew how—through music.

What makes this song special is its honesty. It doesn’t try to sound poetic or polished. It sounds real. You can feel Toby’s voice tremble as he sings about the laughter they shared and the hole his friend’s absence left behind. There’s a line that cuts especially deep—“I’m not cryin’ ‘cause I feel so sorry for you; I’m cryin’ for me.” It’s that quiet admission we’ve all felt after losing someone: that the tears aren’t for them—they’re for us, for the ache of still being here without them.

The melody is soft, almost reverent, carried by steel guitar and Toby’s restrained delivery. It’s not a performance—it’s a conversation with a friend who can no longer answer. And that’s what makes it hit so hard: it feels like we’re listening in on something deeply personal, yet universal at the same time.

“Cryin’ for Me” reminds us that grief and gratitude can live in the same breath. It’s not just a tribute to Wayman—it’s a promise that friendship, real friendship, doesn’t end when one of you walks away.

Video

Lyrics

Sorry you miss me
I’ll get back with you as soon as I can
Thank you, God bless
Got the news on Friday mornin’
But a tear I couldn’t find
You showed me how I’m supposed to live
And now you showed me how to die
I was lost ’til Sunday mornin’
I woke up to face my fear
While writin’ you this goodbye song
I found a tear
I’m gonna miss that smile
I’m gonna miss you, my friend
Even though it hurts the way it ended up, I’d do it all again
So play it sweet in heaven
‘Cause that’s right where you want to be
I’m not cryin’ ’cause I feel so sorry for you
I’m cryin’ for me
I got up and dialed your number
And your voice came on the line, with that old familiar message
I’d heard a thousand times, it just said
“Sorry that I missed you, leave a message and God bless”
I know you’d think I’m crazy, but I had to hear your voice again
I’m gonna miss that smile
I’m gonna miss you, my friend
Even though it hurts the way it ended up, I’d do it all again
So play it sweet in heaven
‘Cause that’s right where you want to be
I’m not cryin’ ’cause I feel so sorry for you
I’m cryin’ for me
So play your upside down, left-handed, backwards bass guitar
And I’ll see you on the other side, superstar
I’m gonna miss that smile
I’m gonna miss you, my friend
Even though it hurts the way it ended up, I’d do it all again
So play it sweet in heaven
‘Cause that’s right where you want to be
I’m not cryin’ ’cause I feel so sorry for you
I’m cryin’ for me
I’m still cryin’
I’m cryin’ for me, oh
I’m still cryin’

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Country Music

It was long after midnight when Willie Nelson sat out on the porch, cigarette in hand, the glow of his phone lighting the creases on his face. Somewhere deep in his messages, Toby Keith’s name still sat there — the last few words they’d traded before the road took one of them home. He thought about the miles they’d shared — endless highways, truck-stop coffee, guitars that never quite stayed in tune. Toby used to say, “The road never really ends, Will — it just changes scenery.” And now, as the Texas dawn began to break, Willie finally understood what he meant. Far away, in the golden fields of memory, Toby still stood — hat tipped low, an old notebook pressed to his chest like a prayer. And though one sang under the moon, and the other beneath the sun, somewhere between them, the music kept on going. Because the road never forgets the ones who sang upon it.

Country Music

He never forgot that night at the airport — when a young man in uniform walked up, nervous but smiling, and said, “Sir, your songs got me through some long nights overseas.” Toby paused, shook his hand, and asked where he was headed. The soldier just said, “Back out there.” No speech. No spotlight. Just a quiet exchange between two men who understood something most people never would. That moment stayed with him — the humility, the courage, the cost. A few weeks later, sitting alone with his guitar, Toby wrote “American Soldier.” It wasn’t a song built for radio or awards; it was a prayer. A way to say thank you to every man and woman who carried the weight of freedom so the rest of the world could sleep. When he sang it live, he never shouted. He just closed his eyes, hand over his heart, and let the words speak for themselves. Because for Toby Keith, patriotism was never performance — it was personal.

Country Music

Toby Keith once held his little girl close after every show, her tiny hands clutching his jacket, eyes full of pride as she whispered, “That’s my daddy.” Years later, not much has changed — except now she’s the one standing beside him, her own voice carrying across the same kind of stages he once ruled. In those old photos, he’s the young dad with long hair and a big smile; in the new one, he’s the man with softer eyes, kissing his grown daughter on the forehead. The years in between? They were filled with music, laughter, lessons, and love that never faded — only grew deeper. He taught her how to sing, but more than that, he taught her how to feel a song. And if you listen close enough, you can still hear it — the sound of a father’s pride, echoing quietly behind every note she sings.

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Country Music

They met long before the fame — just two Oklahoma boys with the same dream and the same bad jokes. Wayman played ball, Toby played bars, and somehow they always found a way to laugh in the middle of the grind. Years later, when Toby heard that Wayman was gone, he didn’t call anyone. He didn’t post a thing. He just drove out to his barn, sat down with a guitar, and stared at the sky until the words showed up. He called it “Cryin’ for Me.” But he wasn’t crying for Wayman — he was crying for every moment they didn’t get to finish. For every story they planned to tell “one of these days.” When he finally sang it live, there were no fireworks, no long speech. Just his voice, steady and raw, carrying the weight of friendship. Because for Toby Keith, grief was never a show. It was a song — one that only the heart could finish

Country Music

It was long after midnight when Willie Nelson sat out on the porch, cigarette in hand, the glow of his phone lighting the creases on his face. Somewhere deep in his messages, Toby Keith’s name still sat there — the last few words they’d traded before the road took one of them home. He thought about the miles they’d shared — endless highways, truck-stop coffee, guitars that never quite stayed in tune. Toby used to say, “The road never really ends, Will — it just changes scenery.” And now, as the Texas dawn began to break, Willie finally understood what he meant. Far away, in the golden fields of memory, Toby still stood — hat tipped low, an old notebook pressed to his chest like a prayer. And though one sang under the moon, and the other beneath the sun, somewhere between them, the music kept on going. Because the road never forgets the ones who sang upon it.

Country Music

He never forgot that night at the airport — when a young man in uniform walked up, nervous but smiling, and said, “Sir, your songs got me through some long nights overseas.” Toby paused, shook his hand, and asked where he was headed. The soldier just said, “Back out there.” No speech. No spotlight. Just a quiet exchange between two men who understood something most people never would. That moment stayed with him — the humility, the courage, the cost. A few weeks later, sitting alone with his guitar, Toby wrote “American Soldier.” It wasn’t a song built for radio or awards; it was a prayer. A way to say thank you to every man and woman who carried the weight of freedom so the rest of the world could sleep. When he sang it live, he never shouted. He just closed his eyes, hand over his heart, and let the words speak for themselves. Because for Toby Keith, patriotism was never performance — it was personal.

Country Music

Toby Keith once held his little girl close after every show, her tiny hands clutching his jacket, eyes full of pride as she whispered, “That’s my daddy.” Years later, not much has changed — except now she’s the one standing beside him, her own voice carrying across the same kind of stages he once ruled. In those old photos, he’s the young dad with long hair and a big smile; in the new one, he’s the man with softer eyes, kissing his grown daughter on the forehead. The years in between? They were filled with music, laughter, lessons, and love that never faded — only grew deeper. He taught her how to sing, but more than that, he taught her how to feel a song. And if you listen close enough, you can still hear it — the sound of a father’s pride, echoing quietly behind every note she sings.