Text race history for Ben (magic_typer12)

Back to text analysis page

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
806 2022-12-12 02:54:57 44.02 94%