Thought Control to Major Tom:
Thought Control to Major Tom:
Take your anthrax pills and put your helmet on.

Thought Control to Major Tom:
No more peace, invasion's on.
Check your thinking and may bloodlust be with you.

This is Thought Control to Major Tom:
You've really kicked some ass!
And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear.
Now it's time to answer questions if you dare.

This is Major Tom to Thought Control:
They don't like me no more.
And they're looting in a most peculiar way.
And Iraq looks very different today.

I'm taking orders from a tinhorn
far beneath my worth.
Planet Earth is blue
and there's nothing I can do.

I don't see no mass-destruction stuff
but Bush is lying, still.
And I think my conscience knows which way to go.
Tell my wife I love her very much. She knows.

Thought Control to Major Tom:
You're f---ing dead! You called Bush wrong!
You're gonna get it, Major Tom!
You're gonna get it, Major Tom!
You're gonna get it, Major Tom!

I'm taking orders from a tinhorn
far beneath my worth.
Planet Earth is blue
and there's nothing I can do.