Red Ragtop: Tim McGraw. I was twenty and she was eighteen. We were just about as wild as we were green, In the ways of the world. She picked me up in that red ragtop, We were free of the folks and hiding from the cops on a summer night. Running all the red lights. An' we parked way out in a clearing in a grove, And the night was as hot as a coal-burning stove: we were cooking with gas. Ooh, it had to last In the back of that red rag top, She said: "Please don't stop." Well the very first time her mother met me, Her green-eyed girl had been a mother-to-be for two weeks. I was out of a job and she was in school. And life was fast and the world was cruel, we were young and wild. We decided not to have a child. So we did what we did and we tried to forget. And we swore up and down there would be no regrets in the morning light. But all the way home that night: On the back of that red ragtop, She said: "Please don't stop loving me." We took one more trip around the sun, But it was all make believe in the end. No, I can't say where she is today. I can't remember who I was back then. Well, you do what you do and you pay for your sins. And there's no such thing as what might have been, that's a waste of time. Drive you out of your mind. I was stopped at a red light just yesterday. Beside a young girl in a cabriolet, and her eyes were green. And I was in an old scene. I was back in that red ragtop, On the day she stopped loving me.