[Verse 1]
She learned to carry mountains like a second skin,
Built a life from discipline and depth within,
The healer's hands that mapped both wound and bone,
A mind like bedrock, patient, carved in stone,
But underneath that steady, capable ground,
An ocean moved in currents, barely found.

[PreChorus]
She crossed the water not to run from what she knew,
But to follow something ancient calling through.

[Chorus]
Christina, you were written by a careful hand,
Your roots reach deep in places few could understand,
The harp strings and the heartstrings are the same,
The cosmos knew exactly what it named.

[Verse 2]
She traded sterile hallways for the Irish rain,
Let her fingers find the notes that carry pain,
Not away from it — but through it, string by string,
The kind of art that only wound-walkers bring,
She writes in ink that tastes like memory and moss,
And turns the language of the lost into a cross.

[PreChorus]
She's lived in thresholds — always on the in-between,
The sacred and the practical, the unseen and the seen.

[Chorus]
Christina, you were written by a careful hand,
Your roots reach deep in places few could understand,
The harp strings and the heartstrings are the same,
The cosmos knew exactly what it named.

[Verse 3]
She's felt the weight of work done well but unacknowledged there,
The quiet ache of giving more than anyone declared,
But every page she filled, every chord that found the air,
Was proof that what she built was never meant to disappear,
The worlds she's crossed — in body, soul, in word, in string —
Have made her something ancient seasons couldn't bring.

[PreChorus]
She never needed permission, though she sometimes thought she did,
The authority was always hers — it always lived.

[Chorus]
Christina, you were written by a careful hand,
Your roots reach deep in places few could understand,
The harp strings and the heartstrings are the same,
The cosmos knew exactly what it named.

[Bridge]
You are the healer and the one still being healed,
The story and the teller, the wound and what's revealed,
You don't have to earn the ground beneath your feet,
You were whole before the world taught you to compete.

[Outro]
Let the strings ring out across the evening tide,
Everything you've lived was worth the ride,
Christina, you were never ordinary — not once, not ever, not at all.