The withered leaves collect at my feet and the wind begins to moan. Memory, all alone in the moonlight. I can dream of the old days, life was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory live again.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 669 | 2018-01-18 01:05:58 | 47.50 | 95% |
| 517 | 2018-01-12 21:16:43 | 51.51 | 94% |