Sticks and stones

I know this sounds odd
But I have calculated
That is, in a sense

I need four twenty
Of zeta resonators
One for every cell

The first 4.2
Are meant to pierce like arrows
Their strikes ringing true

Some will ring off pitch
May the Lord listen to these
And return fire

The rest are like bricks
Crafted and amplified sound
Just enough to crack

We throw at windows
Us vandalizers of night
Each hitting their mark

The windows are marked
A red highlight from the cord
But we have enough

Lord hear my prayer
Tell them go and we will go
Cancer dead by morn'