The withered leaves collect at my feet and the wind begins to moan. Memory, all alone in the moonlight. I can dream of the old days, life was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory live again.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1002 | 2018-12-20 12:55:53 | 38.68 | 93% |
| 548 | 2018-12-08 11:32:25 | 34.97 | 94% |