Land of the gla** pinecones They only grow for the full moon The farmers never gather them The magic cones are heaven-sent Land of the gla** pinecones Their seeds are made of rhinestones The squirrels never scatter them They know what rhinestone seeds portend Land of the gla** pinecones They smash on the gra** when the wind blows
The splinters fly throughout the land And pierce the eye of every man Land of the gla** pinecones The eye now sees what the tree knows The splinters burn, but then we learn That when we spend we have to bend Its all a part of nature's plan All a part of nature's plan Land of the gla** pinecones