Text race history for pasta (pastashapes)

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I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. Is this where it gets me, on my feet, several feet ahead of me? I see it coming, do I run or fire my gun or let it be? There is no beat, no melody. Burr, my first friend, my enemy. Maybe the last face I ever see. If I throw away my shot, is this how you'll remember me?

Game Time WPM Accuracy
60720 2021-08-19 18:37:41 127.19 97%