The withered leaves collect at my feet and the wind begins to moan. Memory, all alone in the moonlight. I can dream of the old days, life was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory live again.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1439 | 2018-05-22 13:41:50 | 63.89 | 96% |
| 394 | 2018-02-01 10:31:09 | 51.78 | 96% |