A soldier's excuse for "Poetry"

You're taught not to hold a gun carelessly, finger off the trigger unless about to shoot.

Wandering around almost aimlessly, kicking 'round the rocks from under your boot.

Fallen to the ground, there's scrapes on your knees. There's something wrong with you, deep down to your roots.

Wipe your eyes off, don't let them see you cry. 

Keep moving on the battlefield or you're gonna die.