"Winter is my Time of Year" genre: Psychedelic
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	A track from Ariel Godwin's second professional album, "Podunk".
	CD: Podunk (by Ariel Godwin)   Label: Bogusville Records (http://www.bogusville.com) Credits: Written, performed, recorded, and produced by Ariel Godwin
	Story Behind the Song This song is about summer camping trips I took during my teenage years, in the Adirondack mountains of upstate New York. Lyrics WINTER IS MY TIME OF YEAR Music/Lyrics: Ariel Godwin In the beginning there was always something Making something just not seem right I was always scared of the new moon’s darkness Hating what I heard in the humid night Now I’m in the canoe but the paddle keeps sticking Catching in some weeds in the frog spawn stream Swatting at the bugs as they move to surround me I could almost swear that I heard you scream Heading downstream in the blackfly slaughter Floating like a cork in my lifeguard gear In the summer I gasp like a fish out of water Winter is my time of year The night rolls in and the pressure starts falling Now my head aches so, I can barely see Out in the woods I hear the coydogs calling I can only guess that they’ve come for me I wake up scared in the tent undercover Dreaming the mosquitoes sucked me dry Smashing them to pulp as they swoop and hover I wish the fall would come so they all would die Heading downstream in the blackfly slaughter Floating like a cork in my lifeguard gear In the summer I gasp like a fish out of water Winter is my time of year Felling dead trees in the woods on the island Vandalizing nature like teenage boys Fishing golf balls from the creek in the morning With a catapult they make deadly toys And we sat up all night telling stories All about the things that we’d never done Bragging like mad about our unfounded glory Slipping into sleep with the rising sun Remember the current that caught us? Drowned like lemmings just below the weir In the summer I gasp like a fish out of water Winter is my time of year Some of us got beaver fever Blisters in my boots on the sawdust trail And the sun shines down like a sharp meat cleaver Haven’t figured out why I’m still so pale In the end we sat by a wood-lined highway Waiting to get back to our dry, clean homes Waiting for the swamps to all freeze over Waiting to get out of this greenhouse dome Remember the park ranger’s daughter Just when we were surely headed out of here? In the summer I gasp like a fish out of water Winter is my time of year Winter is my time of year Winter is my time of year

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