What’s All This Herbert Grönemeyer

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His pyjamas lie there in my bed
His comb stuck in my brush
I said what's all this?
His shoes stand in a tidy row
That's nice to see when you get home
What's all this?

His after-shave hangs in the air
He might have chosen mine to wear
What's all this?
You say he's moved in with you here
You point me to the door, that's clear
What's all this?

His favourite dish upon the stove
I'd shove my fist right down his throat but mustn't
No, I mustn't
Of embarassment he shows no trace
His friendly smile lights up the place
He's grinning, just grinning!

How come I deserve to be
The fool that he makes out of me
At least you could have given me a clue
You could have had a one-night fling
In time I'd forget everything
But I've got no chance
I'm left no time to understand
If you could see you've hurried love