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Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz, between what's flesh and what's fantasy. And the poets down here don't write nothing at all. They just stand back and let it all be. And in the quick of a knife, they reach for their moment and try to make an honest stand, but they wind up wounded, not even dead.
— Jungleland (song) by Bruce Springsteen
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Top 10 scores for this text
|1||joshua728||215 WPM||99.0%||223||1/3||July 8, 2022|
|2||florentine||215 WPM||100.0%||N/A||1/8||May 25, 2017|
|3||arenasnow||214 WPM||99.0%||221||1/2||May 15, 2019|
|4||viellain||214 WPM||100.0%||221||1/1||Nov. 1, 2022|
|5||iamtyperacer||213 WPM||100.0%||220||1/3||June 2, 2023|
|6||typos_zzz||213 WPM||99.0%||220||1/4||Sept. 28, 2023|
|7||jewishguy_||209 WPM||100.0%||216||1/2||May 24, 2022|
|8||flaneur||202 WPM||100.0%||208||1/1||Aug. 5, 2022|
|9||trollaccount_xd||200 WPM||99.0%||206||1/3||April 24, 2022|
|10||inconsistency||199 WPM||98.0%||206||1/3||Nov. 18, 2021|