The old tram trickles past, rustles the leaves by my feet.
I see a poster of my mentor, trying his best to look discrete.
My old life has disappeared; my new one is being ridiculed,
I seek not condescension or wisdom, for I’m destined to be destitute.

The cold stone, your cold lips,
You’re frozen to your fingertips.
Your face is ashen white,
Glows underneath the streetlights

Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost
Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost

Is a man always doomed for doing as his family would?
For those who life seems straightforward are often misunderstood.
I wish to free your mind from the chaos it has become.
I know I am at fault, but I cannot undo what I’ve already done.

The cold stone, your cold lips,
You’re frozen to your fingertips.
Your face is ashen white,
Glows underneath the streetlights

Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost
Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost
Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost

You followed in devotion, as I wandered from Beckmann to Bach.
I sensed the raw emotion, but was much too afraid to ask.
I have failed as a lover, and I have failed as a friend.
But does this really mean our love has to end?

The cold stone, I feel your cold lips,
We’re both frozen to our fingertips.
Your face is ashen white,
Glows underneath the streetlights

Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost
Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost
Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost
Don’t leave me in this Leipzig Frost