divin' in quicksand's faster than sinkin'

JACK

see me falling
yeah, down and lonely

"Old fashioned way's never steered me wrong a'fore," Jack mutters; he's still a little suspicious as Lyra comes crouching beside him, all steel and vitriol at being too concussed dizzy, still, to get to his feet and be on his way under his own steam. But her thoughts are calm and focused purely on the task at hand, and so the Captain lets out a long breath in a sigh and allows her to rummage around in her pack.

If Safrin had wanted him to consider what it was like to be without his ship, she couldn't have picked a better situation for him. Swamped out here in the rain and the mud with a sore head and no one around but a stranger to have to rely upon, he misses the Ark like he's missing an arm. "Fingers crossed for no stitches. Ain't sure I'm keen for someone to practice their sewin' on me in the middle of the jungle," he grumbles, sitting himself up a little more and nodding for her to go ahead.

are the angels on their way
i’m in the dirt