Is it real?

Last time I checked, the pulse was dying.
Tears ain't drying, but our souls are frying.
Burnt in hellish environments that don't need fire,
The stress is enough to make us perspire.
Hit man for hire, or is it hit man for corrections,
I feel like that's what we do in our presidential elections.
Hope things turn out different,
Otherwise all those promises of better times would have been a misprint.
What are my intents?
What are my dreams?
What are my evil thoughts and intergalactic schemes?
Born a human with so little time,
Creating a madness, and feeling of sense in rhyme,
Ring the chime, could this be an apocalyptic sign?
Or another tune from a Siren?
Listen in and get yourselves smashed in the violence!
The rush of words that blow your brains out like w****s,
Or suicidalist who just feel life is too much of a bore.
The pain I can see in your eyes iris,
Looks like you couldn't help it:
You've been infected by the virus.
The greed and the want of living in this society,
You lost your footing, and the problem can't be diagnosed by podiatry.
Where can you find some real medicine?
You're wishing you'd light up like a weed smoker, or the great Benjamin.
Well, it's about to be a situation of "all or nothing."
How much longer can you wear that poker face and get by by bluffin?
Ask yourselves more questions,
And see if the answers lead you to better directions.
Closer inspection,
Go ahead and play detective,
Maybe you'll figure out why you follow everything on TV that's suggestive,
And when you do you can probably really live,
Cause for some reason we don't appreciate the truth as much as the fibs.