That we don't even care as restless as we are, we feel the pull in the land of a thousand guilts. And poured cement, lamented and assured. To the lights and town below, faster than the speed of sound, faster than we thought we'd go beneath the sound of hope.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1076 | 2018-05-01 12:54:23 | 84.64 | 97% |