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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3313 | 2018-03-16 15:37:30 | 116.06 | 100% |
| 2473 | 2018-02-05 14:17:37 | 120.47 | 99% |