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
It's all a part of nature's plan
All a part of nature's plan
Land of the gla** pinecones