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.

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