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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 189 | 2019-05-04 22:00:34 | 76.78 | 99% |
| 167 | 2019-05-03 17:18:39 | 48.21 | 95% |