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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5278 | 2020-01-14 08:31:16 | 60.51 | 97% |
| 307 | 2019-02-15 14:09:46 | 54.67 | 95% |