Over the Fence may refer to:
Over the Fence is a 1917 American short comedy film directed by and starring Harold Lloyd. The film is notable as the debut of the "Glasses" or "Boy" character. Prints of the film survive at the film archive of the Museum of Modern Art.
Over the Fence (Finnish: Viikko ennen vappua) is a Finnish short film written by Ilmari Aho and Hamy Ramezan and directed by Hamy Ramezan. The screenplay for the film took part in a scriptwriting competition organized by The Finnish Film Foundation and The Finnish Broadcasting Company YLE in early 2008. Out of 53 submitted screenplays, Over the Fence was selected to be produced. The film was shot on April 2009 with 170 €000 budget.
Over the Fence won Mention Ada Solomon at 2010 Clermont-Ferrand Short Film Festival and prize for Best International Short Film at 2010 Santiago de Compostela Curtocircuito Short Film Festival. The film was also awarded at 2010 CFC Toronto International Short Film Festival as a Best Live Action Short Film, which made it eligible for Academy Awards.
"...What trust can we any longer place in government policies that have
rigorously and indeed brutally held down wages, yet at the same time
increased prices and in the process presented us with the biggest
unemployment problem in postwar years..."
The streets are filthy from the sweat and tears
We wear our fingers to the bone in search of gold
We must protect our children from the night, whatever's not right
We bear witness- Junkyard means business
Shadows in the dark, muggers on the stairs
Junkyard warfare some peoples worst nightmare
My sides bleed alkies looking for 10p,
And cash converters were invented for junkies
My neighbors ?????, and livin here ain't very cheap
Thieves from the council stole their money from the streets
I ain't had runnin water for weeks
Kids in my flat hardly know how to speak
Before they're bunnin down weed and getting STD's
And then they have kids, before their time to live
Which is some hard shit, when kids bringin up kids
Times is hard in the junkyard, kids fuck around in the dirt
And see white as the only way to work
They hold the square cos there's piss on the stairs
Little man licks the pipe and blows the smoke high in the air
He calls it welfare's prayer, smoking on the shit to feel godly
Spittin wit those cats upstairs
Cos its dirty down here, God, you get yr robes pulled of yr back
Crucified in a block of flats
Junkyard style, from the bricks to the shacks
And the pigs chase the cats while the cats feed their habits
Sometimes I get nostalgic and I hold my old corner
Where we used to rock that bad magic
I get toxic then reflect on the world
Watching cars drive by putting swine B4 pearls
Guzzling on L just to keep my head straight
In the Junkyard AKA Highbury Estate
You gotta fight to survive blood
Lash your take to make your food supply right blood
Hold your own cos the kids are all fucked
Livin on luck when you ain't got nothing and its all about the buck
Junkyard- burning bins and dumped cars
police on patrol, and streetcorner stars
Cats getting prang, Yardies getting blam
shots getting licked so live how you can
Kids are eating (icepoles?), throwing stones at busses
Accosting grannies getting chased and now they've grown up
Screwing on the corner with a knife in his pocket
Jack you, stab you, kill you, your times up
My bloods dirty from the poison that the junkyard breathes
Everything we touch just dies of disease
But still I live here, shine an example to the youngers
To think about the way I'm gonna deal with my hunger
Broke for 3 days, late giro again
New Deal, low pay, big ball and chain
Tucked into my sock and I don't wanna be broke
I've got the sentence of the junkyard fever ??
And I'm burning temptation as I look to the stars
For a time when we can clean up the Junkyard
Yeah its hard in the streets for whoever you are
When yr livin in a place we call the Junkyard;
I watched a film called life, through a broken window on the stairs
It weren't long before the police appeared, all flashlight shining in my face
Same shit all the time- Junkyard, where our lives don't change
Little kids like orphans check me for a sponsor on the (icepoles?)
Nine year olds plottin for a title like Ollie Twist
Snatch yr purse like a dodger disappear in the bricks
The Junkyards a playground, crimes a safe route, drink's a way out
The kids sit and blaze like there's gonna be a drought
Ain't no love here, not for self or surroundings
Just close encounters, and scoundrels of all kinds
The money-mad'll rob you blind without foresight
And speed off somewhere into the night
To get high off this world, create their own space
From the Junkyard AKA Highbury Estate
You gotta fight to survive blood
Lash your take to make your food supply right blood
Hold your own cos the kids are all fucked
Livin on luck when you ain't got nothing and its all about the buck
Junkyard- burning bins and dumped cars
police on patrol, and streetcorner stars
Cats getting prang, Yardies getting blam
shots getting licked so live how you can
"Britains economic problem isn't a problem of the decade or even a