Is it wrong that I dont want to work a job, but a farm, and live on it, and in my spare time walk the earth?

Life these days is just to high strung. I wanna walk the feilds of clover and hey at the stroke of midnight, in the pale moonlight, with nothing but the sounds of crikets and all bugs alike. One hand a beer the other my darling little women all dressed in white, whith a loose cotton skirt, an flowery top. As we walk so gayly to our little cabode in the woods next to that of a waterfall gently weeping into spring fed pond, with lillies adorned around the edges. After I start a fire for us both we will continue to make love and feel the air with the sounds of unionship, ahh love where might thou be!!!