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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1572 | 2019-10-08 15:47:49 | 86.59 | 94% |
| 1212 | 2019-08-19 20:00:43 | 81.70 | 95% |