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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1931 | 2020-12-01 15:36:36 | 108.73 | 98% |
| 316 | 2020-02-26 06:06:53 | 95.79 | 97% |