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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1245 | 2019-03-07 15:46:14 | 71.58 | 94% |
| 873 | 2019-02-26 18:12:57 | 102.49 | 98% |