All Along the Last Hour

"I just found some Way out of here," thought the Chosen, with the Rogue." ". . .so much disagreement with you, you in your control-freak mode." "You're bossy, you like to take charge; it sometimes bothers me. But you know you're not really the boss here; can't you see?" "No reason to get excited," the rogue, he kindly spoke. "We understand it, you and I, that sometimes I take a poke. You and I, we've been through this, so let's not pout. We got work to do; Surely we can work it out." All throughout their last work hour, nothing more was said. But then the Chosen walked away; an hour later and he's dead! A few days later, and there's a funeral in the chapel. . . with Chosen in a coffin, no longer in the battle. His soul's gone on to heavenly realm;

He followed his Captain at the helm. Who knew? King of Soul