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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1117 | 2020-05-29 03:29:50 | 91.12 | 98% |
| 94 | 2020-05-16 23:57:44 | 67.60 | 97% |