my cousin is in columbia
hunting down the rebels
over fields of bright and shiny coca

over the jungle floor
one-handing a 32
he says: bring her down low now, I m ready to go.

I hunt kids in camouflage
rain down bullets in flight, white light,
barefoot boys run for your lives.

but you can t be nice
you put your gun to their head
and you pull back the pin
and you can t be good

my friend is based in afghanistan
he goes from cave to cave and pulls the trigger
at the first sight of a man

it s total anarchy
shooting tracer bullets at night
a high and holy patrol into poppy fields

but you can t be good
you hold up the bloody knife
and let it shine in the sun
you gotta be everywhere

I m a guard in guantanamo
I bring the prisoners in
the hoods come off and torture slowly begins

the screams I ve overheard
it d fuck up a weaker man
but I m cold, I m so untouchable

and you can t be nice
I got a flak jacket
on my soul with me tonight
and you can t be good