Land of the Glass Pinecones

Land of the glass pinecones

They only grow for the full moon
The farmers never gather them
The magic cones are heaven-sent
Land of the glass pinecones

Their seeds are made from rhinestones
Squirrels never scatter them
They know rhinestone seeds portend
Land of the glass pinecones

They smash on the grass when the wind blows
The splinters fly throughout the land
And pierce the eye of every man
Land of the glass pinecones

The eye now sees what the tree knows
The splinters burn, but then we learn
The way 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 glass pinecones
Land of the glass pinecones