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"I could wait until you're sleeping, you'd never hear me leaving, go without saying a word. I could write it in a letter; maybe it'd be better, who knows, it can make it worse. Save it for a rainy day. Baby, either way, I'm damning it straight to Hell. Ten to three or half past 9, it will never be a good time, to drop a bombshell. If I did a little drinking, may numb me into thinking, I could tell you face to face. If I hardened my heart, I'd tear us apart, so I wouldn't have to carry this weight, here on my shoulders, I'd tell you it's over, instead of keeping it to myself. Whatever midnight, it'll never be a good time, to drop a bombshell. I can't love you, I can't love you anymore. Oooohhhh, I can't love you, I can't love you anymore. Driving through the smoke, out of the ashes, looking for a place to land. All that I know, is I can't go back, so I'm driving fast as I can. Picking up pieces, praying to Jesus, Lord I'm gonna need your help. It ain't the easy way, there's always a price to pay, for dropping a bombshell. Ten to three or half past nine, it'll never be a good time. "