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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1202 | 2020-08-02 12:22:04 | 44.34 | 93% |
| 1041 | 2020-07-30 07:58:51 | 44.19 | 92% |