Mumps Dots Four Humps

A billion boiled vespers for my making dense, cigarettes burning for the old cardiac incense(d). Evensong can't save our lungs, and the babes coughings, or our disillusion with ice tech n ology. Sun for evening stars and false bottomed listers not rine, no germ killer could save us tumping. This is not p or pi or pee, so it must be q for qua for quaking, r for the return to red reticence. Stay your sad eyes.