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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 365 | 2020-06-24 23:42:17 | 57.86 | 96% |
| 107 | 2020-06-01 05:41:22 | 48.19 | 94% |