[Verse 1] Born free, says Rousseau, yet shackled to a throne, Every cradle rocks under fetters not its own, Fetters—old word for chains that wrap the newborn tight, "Man is born free, everywhere in chains" he'd write, He asks how liberty got swallowed by the crowd, The answer's in a contract that we signed without a sound. [Chorus] General will, general will, the common good's the drum we beat, Not the will of all—that's private wants stacked like wheat, Aggregate's a fancy word for one big selfish heap, General will's the pulse that keeps the people's spirit deep, Sing it till it sticks: the whole outweighs the bits! [Verse 2] Picture the assembly, every voter in the square, Will of all just tallies "what's in it for me" with flair, But the general will asks something harder, something true: What's good for the whole village, not just me and you? Rousseau draws the line between the echo and the choir, One's a selfish murmur, one's the common good's desire. [Chorus] General will, general will, the common good's the drum we beat, Not the will of all—that's private wants stacked like wheat, Aggregate's a fancy word for one big selfish heap, General will's the pulse that keeps the people's spirit deep, Sing it till it sticks: the whole outweighs the bits! [Verse 3] Now here's the twist that scholars love to argue in the hall, Refuse the general will? You'll be "forced to be free," that's the call, Sounds like a riddle, sounds like logic turned inside out, Forced into freedom—liberty wearing a disguise, no doubt, Some call it democracy flexing a radical arm, Some call it the blueprint for a tyrant's quiet charm, One line, two centuries of scholars raising the alarm. [Verse 4] Paris, seventeen-eighty-nine, the mob took up his pen, Stormed the old order, wrote "general will" again, He'd damned the fences of property, called inequality a scar, Said hired representatives can't speak for who we are, "Sovereignty's not something you can lend out or you rent," The people's own direct voice was his whole document's intent. [Bridge] Is it the people ruling, or the people being ruled? Rousseau left us a compass but he never carved the tool, Freedom bound in fetters, freedom forced to kneel, Two faces, one old coin—which profile should we feel? [Chorus] General will, general will, the common good's the drum we beat, Not the will of all—that's private wants stacked like wheat, Aggregate's a fancy word for one big selfish heap, General will's the pulse that keeps the people's spirit deep, Sing it till it sticks: the whole outweighs the bits! [Outro] Born free, in chains, hunting for the common thread, General will, not will of all, echoing in your head, Forced to be free—argue it till the candle's lit, Rousseau's riddle rolls on, and we're still unraveling it.
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