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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1867 | 2019-02-25 16:38:30 | 53.68 | 94% |
| 1609 | 2019-02-04 16:54:56 | 50.66 | 93% |