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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1940 | 2018-08-17 15:13:59 | 84.68 | 96% |
| 625 | 2018-02-04 12:48:35 | 93.61 | 99% |