Unconditional

Oh, what you got my baby

Where’d you go my friend

What you got that’s making you so blue

Oh, what you got my darling

Why you slumping low

Spill the beans

Tell me straight and true

Well, I’m in trouble with the long arm of the law

Failed to pay my taxes

Left a smoking gun in the drawer

My fingerprints were everywhere

And they got me on the call

Don’t worry honey

Sounds like you were framed

I didn’t go to Sunday school

I bought cigarettes instead

Smoked ‘em in the alley by the bar

Got into a bit of a scuffle

Had to beat a hasty shuffle

We went surfing through the bardo near and far

The car we were in was stolen

It belonged to her uncle whose face was swollen

‘Cause he said some things and didn’t make parole

We headed south for the sand and sun

Just a few days on the beach was fun

‘Til his X walked in

And brought that wrath of hell

‘Cause she wasn’t really his X quite yet

She was somewhere sooner in the alphabet

She could drink like a sailor and sing like a troubadour

She could dance

She could howl

She could scream

She could brawl

She could laugh with a certain kind of look

I could tell that the getting good was well behind the bend

Chorus

Well, she went at him with a curling iron

While I slipped out the back

Found his keys and wallet by the door

This car ain’t bad on grass and beer

With a little bit of mad and a little bit of fear

I scored some groceries further up the coast

Well, I don’t mean the things I do

I’m just drawn to a certain moral point of view

Where the line between

What’s right and wrong’s a mess

You could say that it’s just that the times are bad

That the sun was in your eyes

And your head’s up your ass

Allow for the absurd

I must confess

Chorus

Before too long all the weed was lit

And the car it wouldn’t go

I started thinking

What you said that night

Did you really mean that you would love to the end of time?

Could you really take me back again?

Don’t worry darling

Don’t worry sweetie pie

I kept the light on for you

You’re the apple of my eye

Don’t worry ‘bout the mortgage

Or that rotting stack of bills

Anyway,

It sounds like you were framed.

Anyway,

It sounds like you were framed.