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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1248 | 2018-02-08 02:33:03 | 64.14 | 94% |
| 759 | 2018-01-25 07:01:44 | 70.30 | 96% |