T.J.
Reflection
The post T.J. Came Running is a reflection on that afternoon on my Granddaddy's land and the silence that followed. This song took shape in late 2025, decades after that day, when the grief I still hold had to move through rhyme and meter.
Lyrics
T.J.
The bus brakes hissed on the county tar
Granny sat waiting in that idling car
A '78 Olds, painted midnight blue
Smelling like dust and dried morning dew
We tossed our bags on the back seat
And left downtown for the red-dirt heat
Just an afternoon ride, back to the farm
Before we knew that Granny could do so much harm
You can pound on the glass till your knuckles go numb
But the rubber don't care where the power comes from
He was running on trust, just beating the air
While she stared at the road like there was nobody there
It’s a hell of a thing in the rearview pane
To see heavy blue steel leave a red dirt stain
Crossed the cattle gap, and the suspension groaned
Entering the land that my granddaddy owned
T.J. came running down the long dirt track
With his ears flopped forward and then flying back
Just a happy fat beagle, brown and white
The softest thing running in the afternoon light
He thought he was greeting a friend at the gate
Not a two-ton machine marking his fate
Repeat Chorus
The thump wasn’t loud, but it shook the frame
And the silence that followed didn't have a name
I looked out the back as the dust settled down
At a patch of red and brown on the clay ground
He was wide open on the homestead road
As I fell next to him
The thump wasn’t loud, but it shook the frame
And the silence that followed didn't have a name
I looked out the back as the dust settled down
At a patch of red and brown on the clay ground
He was wide open on the homestead road
As I fell next to him, under the load
The boy I was died right there in the grit
When the tires kept turning and my world just split
Granddaddy came out with a spade in his hand
Moving like a ghost across the bottomland
He didn't ask questions, he saw what she’d done
Just wiped his forehead in the sinking sun
We buried him deep where the tree line starts
With the sound of that Olds still revving in our hearts
I learned right then what I couldn't unlearn
That the people you love don’t always turn
I stood by the hole
Granddad handled the spade
The dog was broken
Two lives unmade
She went in the kitchen
And the red dirt dried
And a part of me stayed
Where a little soul died
Writer: J. Ryan Johnson (BMI)
Copyright: © 2026 J. Ryan Johnson. All rights reserved.
Phone: +1 (407) 902-5419
Email: hello [at] tenthirtyam [dot] org
Audio Disclaimer
Lyrics: Original | Audio: AI-Generated
I am a songwriter and a musician, but I am not the voice meant to inhabit these verses.
I've used AI to bridge the gap for the concept demos, crafted to serve as blueprints that capture the genre, tone, and weary soul I hear for each song.
They exist as an invitation, offered in the hope that these lyrics will eventually reach the hands of an artist and storyteller who can bring them fully into the light.
Until then, they remain as they were born: quiet reflections on the grit and grace found just north of the county line.
