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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1401 | 2018-12-06 17:59:38 | 51.44 | 96% |
| 524 | 2018-08-08 04:53:21 | 56.37 | 98% |