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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1358 | 2019-10-15 03:01:32 | 65.99 | 97% |
| 1159 | 2019-08-02 07:57:41 | 54.28 | 96% |