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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1604 | 2018-03-13 08:43:28 | 88.66 | 98% |
| 1184 | 2018-03-03 01:51:07 | 84.28 | 97% |