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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1334 | 2017-12-17 19:56:23 | 60.74 | 99% |
| 1158 | 2017-12-12 20:24:36 | 57.84 | 98% |