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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3719 | 2018-08-01 14:37:04 | 105.61 | 99% |
| 1910 | 2017-12-27 13:27:27 | 89.58 | 98% |