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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 179 | 2020-10-08 16:20:02 | 96.29 | 98% |
| 76 | 2020-10-03 23:52:32 | 99.49 | 98% |