Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
---|---|---|---|
1214 | 2019-09-17 14:00:07 | 77.53 | 95% |